


Roman’s Journey to the Dark Side

by AspenCe



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Age Play Little Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aromantic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Brotherly Bonding, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders-centric, Cutting, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Morally Neutral Sides (Sanders Sides), Non-Sexual Age Play, Self-Harm, Separation Anxiety, Suicide Attempt, Touch-Starved Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 79,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29086401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspenCe/pseuds/AspenCe
Summary: If it were anyone else he’d be paying more attention in every interaction with them, making sure they weren’t alone for long, and stealing absolutely every sharp or dangerous object from within their reach.But it’s not anyone else, it’s Roman.(Roman’s not okay and it’s gonna take some time for these sides to see that.)
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 809
Kudos: 280





	1. Going Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Self Harm, Doubt, Emotional Manipulation, Blood, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts

It’s normal.

For Roman, that is. If it were anyone else he’d be paying more attention in every interaction with them, making sure they weren’t alone for long, and stealing absolutely  _ every  _ sharp or dangerous object from within their reach. 

But it’s not anyone else, it’s  _ Roman.  _ And it’s not self-harm if it’s not harm done to himself by  _ himself, _ right? It’s just  _ harm.  _ He doesn’t do it on  _ purpose  _ anyways - it’s just, he also doesn’t  _ not  _ do it on purpose. 

It’s just so easy to head into the Imagination when he’s upset, go on a walk, and get attacked. Sometimes it’s bandits, sometimes it’s wild boars, other times it’s dragon-witches and manticore-chimeras, but the outcome is always the same. Whether he wins or loses, which happens equally, Roman ends up with a few injuries and feels a lot better. 

Then he heads back to his room to bandage them. He’s not  _ careless,  _ or suicidal, so he doesn’t risk infection. Proper first-aid is an absolute must. He cleans out the wounds, which is the most painful part, stitches up the bad ones, gets the proper treatments (antibodies, antiseptic, etc.), and then wraps it all up with gauze and bandages. For bruises he makes sure there’s no surface level bleeding, lightly rubs in bruise cream, and bandages them, too. 

Occasionally, he’ll get a broken bone or two, or dislocate something. When that happens, he gets a couple painkillers, waits a few, and then sets it. Once that part’s over, he just cleans up the surface level injuries, then gives himself a cast or splint. He’s particularly skilled at that, and when it’s time to cut off the cast, he just uses his sword and throws the old one away. Roman doesn’t really like wearing casts, though, so he usually goes with a splint instead. 

Of course, there’s also the matter of bruised egos, and the fact that sometimes there isn’t really a monster or villain giving him the injuries all of the time. But he doesn’t discriminate! A wound is a wound, no matter where it comes from, and deserves to be treated all the same. 

And it’s not like it’s a secret. Roman doesn’t try to hide it, and if someone asks, he tells them. 

“Hey Roman, what happened to your arm?”

“Not to worry! In every battle even the hero gets injured, but I assure you the enemy fared much worse!” 

“Princey, you have a giant bruise on your face.”

“Someone  _ dared  _ to call Thomas’ career  _ stupid,  _ and since  _ I’m  _ his ego - you know how it is,”

Yep! Roman just tells them the truth, and then they accept it, and then no one really cares. Because it’s  _ Roman!  _ It’s not Logan, or Virgil, or god-forbid  _ Patton  _ \- heck, it’s not Deceit, and if it was he’d bet that they’d care. He’s not quite sure about Remus. Injuries seem to be his brother’s style. But then again, if he was doing it on purpose… 

Maybe it’s not a fair comparison. Because Roman doesn’t  _ tell them  _ that he gets injured on purpose most of the time, they don’t  _ know  _ it’s self-harm, and no one thinks it’s a problem. 

Roman still doesn’t plan on saying anything. 

But… 

For some reason, he’s not doing it so often anymore. His adventures are more like adventures than just fights, his injuries are more accidental, and he doesn’t understand. How is it just… going away? It doesn’t work that way! It doesn’t fade, doesn’t leave on its own, he’s supposed to fight his way out like an addiction and he’s supposed to be hurting until eventually someone catches him and helps him out. He can’t just  _ get better.  _

It doesn’t work that way. 

So… maybe it’s not self-harm. It can’t be, if it’s just going away when he still needs it, when he’s not doing anything differently. Maybe the scars really are just battle wounds, not mental wounds. Maybe the reason no one cares is that there is no reason  _ to  _ care. 

Sure, Roman’s spending a little more time in his room, a little more time watching cartoons in a onesie and just not really thinking, but how is that helping? How is that all it takes to distract him from hurting himself? It’s not right. He should have to fight, he should have to claw his way out, it means  _ nothing  _ if he just… drifts away from it. 

And yet. 

Roman can’t bring himself to hurt himself on purpose anymore. 

It’s been about two years. Two years that it’s been fading away, becoming less and less appealing and more and more just  _ painful,  _ and today he realized that he hasn’t deliberately let himself get injured in a full two months. 

He doesn’t think anyone has noticed his recent lack of injuries. He still gets hurt, but it’s always an accident or from ego bruises, and now it’s significantly less often that he walks into the commons with bandages wrapped around his torso and a splint on his leg. 

Roman doesn’t understand it, and the haunting, pressing questions about whether he was just making it all up or not are leading to more and more time just spent painting his woes away, writing his heart out, and playing incredibly childish games in the Imagination. 

Sometimes he wakes up at night and just curls into a ball, hugging his many stuffies and crying until he can’t cry anymore. Sometimes he can’t focus enough to paint anything so he takes his hands and smears the paint on the canvas, making blurry, surprisingly artistic paintings of emotion. 

Sometimes he gives Logan his weekly stack of ideas and wants to burst into tears when the older side (Older? Where did that come from? They’re all the same age) calls them “unrealistic, time-consuming, and inadequate” and that they’ll have to “make do”. Sometimes Virgil calls him a prick and he wants to cry. Sometimes Patton tells him that he’s being selfish and he wants to scream. 

And then there it is. There it comes. The opportunity  _ of a lifetime,  _ a callback to an Alfred Hitchcoppolucas movie - and Mary Lee is marrying Lee merrily on the exact same day, and  _ oh,  _ isn’t life  _ just like he dreamed.  _

He hates it. He don’t sugarcoat it, he won’t lie, he won’t embellish anything - he  _ fucking hates it.  _

Deceit played him like a flute - a Magic Flute, used for  _ nothing _ but his magic, then  _ cast aside,  _ a Deluded Bridegroom where the wedding march is a  _ Dissonance _ quartet. And by  _ Mozart,  _ Roman wishes that he could go back in time and tell his past self that the snake is nothing but the _ Feigned Simpleton.  _

_ Patton  _ played him, played him like a fool. How could he have  _ not seen _ that Patton was saying, the whole time, that Roman is selfish and egotistical, and that only as long as he listens to  _ him  _ he’ll be fine? How could he have not seen that Patton was telling him that he’ll be a bad person if he disagrees? It’s like Apollo and Hyacinthus, except Deceit is Zephyr and Patton is Oebalus, Thomas is Melia and Roman is Apollo - and they haven’t reached Act III yet.

Roman wants to scream. He wants to hurt, he wants the pain, he longs for the release it’ll offer him - for the first time in two months, he wants to hurt himself again. But he’s just too worked up to go to the Imagination. He needs control. He needs it, needs to hurt, but he can’t make it so far. 

That’s how Roman finds himself sitting in the bathtub, in nothing but black boxers, so that he can see every knotted scar, every thin white scratch, every bruise that’s coming in, and every reminder of his failures. He can barely think. His mind is foggy, tears are streaming down his cheeks, and he’s shaking badly. His sword is by his bed, leaning against his nightstand, out of reach. But there’s a sharp razor blade in his hand and he’s holding it to his wrist, ready to cut. 

Roman realizes, suddenly, that this isn’t usually how cutting goes in the movies. No, to him, this looks more like - 

He’s never really, truly, considered it before. He knows, of course, what happens when a side dies. He’s died three times before, and it’s a couple days of discorporeating, knitting back together, and then about two hours of prickly discomfort as the blood restores feeling, then he’s alive again. But… that’s in the Imagination, where anything is possible. What about here? What about when he does it himself? What about when he wants to die?

_ Does  _ he want to die? Who will miss him? Will any of them? Patton will probably cry, and feel guilty. Virgil will be scared that sides can die and paranoid that someone else might. Logan will be fascinated. Remus will be delighted! Deceit won’t care. They’ll get over it. 

What about Thomas, though? He needs hopes and dreams and an ego and creativity! He can’t be Thomas without that! 

Roman hesitates. Maybe his traits will be split up? Remus will get the creativity, Virgil will get the hopes, Patton will get the dreams, and maybe Deceit can have the ego. Logan can have the pride. 

But is he really going to trust Thomas’ future to a “maybe”? Is he really going to do this? Is it really not worth living anymore?

Yes. Yes, the answer is  _ yes,  _ it has to be yes because he’s already cutting lines into his arm, a firm, steady  _ one two three four  _ and then he doesn’t hesitate before he digs into his skin and slices down the artery. It burns. It burns so fucking much, and he didn’t expect it to hurt this much - he’s had thirteen broken bones, four dislocations, two stabs to the gut, nine near-fatal wounds and died  _ thrice  _ and he doesn’t understand how this just  _ hurts.  _

There’s so much red. His boxers are soaked in it now, and his hands are covered in it, and he can feel the blood pouring out, draining from his arm and tugging on his heart. It burns. The blood is hot and wet and the smell of copper is overpowering, and he drops the razor and lets himself lean his head back and scream.

He holds it for only a moment before breaking into sobs, hard, wrenching sobs that rack his whole body and make it burn even worse. 

He thinks,  _ I forgot to fill up the tub with water first.  _

And then his vision swims black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He’s… not in his room. Or his bathroom, he recalls suddenly with a flare of phantom pain. It’s too dark and warm, almost like -


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Doubt, Suicidal Ideation

He’s still here. Roman knows because the fact that he can think tells him that he must be. Granted, his thoughts come fleetingly, like dust particles in the air that wink out when he tries to look closer. He’s nearly unconscious, but there’s just the smallest feeling of being  _ here  _ that tells him that he’s not. 

At first, he doesn’t understand why he’s so disappointed by that. Shouldn’t he be glad that he’s not dead? Then his sluggish mind finds that he’s not so much disappointed, and more… relieved. 

He drifts for a while as the dust settles. A few times, he sinks into quiet darkness, but he always drifts back up. At some point, he thinks about how he must not have died, because he’s here and he doesn’t remember discorporeating or being stitched back together or the prickly feeling of getting his blood back. That’s probably important, but he can’t think about it enough to figure out why.

There’s not much he can think about. He’s stuck in a warm fog, and reality sometimes drifts by close enough for him to glimpse, but mostly he’s just drifting. Lost. Waiting. 

Until he’s not. 

He blinks his eyes open, and surprisingly doesn’t have to close them again. It’s dim and warm, so he doesn’t have to shiver or squint, and he appreciates that. But… why is it so dim in his room? He has a lot of windows, and he rarely closes his curtains, unless he’s watching cartoons or feeling upset.

He’s… not in his room. Or his bathroom, he recalls suddenly with a flare of phantom pain. It’s too dark and warm, almost like - 

_ This is Remus’ room, isn’t it?  _

The moth-eaten dark green curtains, the arched ceiling that he can’t see the end of with old creaky rafters, the four poster bed next to his bed, which is… a hospital bed? Why does Remus have a hospital bed? It has a thick blanket, too, not ripped up or stained or anything. That’s... weird.

Roman sighs heavily and goes to sit up, only to find that he can’t. Not that he’s weak or tired or that it hurts too much, but that there’s a thick strap made of… polyester? over his chest holding him down. It’s covered by the blanket. Smart, he realizes. He won’t be able to just get up and sink out, he’s going to have to talk to Remus. 

He doesn’t know  _ why  _ Remus doesn’t want him to be able to leave _.  _ It’s not like Remus cares about him or anything. Maybe it’s for fun. Maybe he’s just been kidnapped. Whatever the reason, Roman just wishes his brother could hurry up so that he can go to his room and think about what he’d almost done in peace. Or… not quite peace, but in privacy, where he can cry and no one will care.

It’s a while before Remus appears, and Roman almost falls asleep again. But - here he is, his brother, closing the door and turning around with a startlingly  _ tear-stained  _ face. There’s a moment before he notices that he’s awake, where his shoulders are slumped and his eyes are downcast and he looks actually, unmistakably  _ desolate.  _

But then their eyes meet, and Remus’ widen. Roman can see the emotions spike in his brother’s eyes. 

“Ro-Ro!” Remus shouts. He rushes forward, leaning over him to look at him from a little too close for comfort. He looks him over as though searching for any injuries, rambling nervously, “Are you okay? Fuck, obviously you’re not okay, you tried to fucking kill yourself - fuck, you tried to  _ kill  _ yourself Ro-Bro! Why didn’t you - fuck - what happened, why!? Why were you bleeding out in your bathtub with a fucking razor!? - ” 

Roman flinches, feeling doubt creep in around his lungs and start to squeeze.  _ Does  _ Remus care? Why would he? Roman’s been nothing but cruel to him. He doesn’t  _ deserve  _ it, he’s a sick, sniveling excuse for a prince. 

No. No, Remus doesn’t care. He’s - he’s just misinterpreting this, he’s just too pathetic to see things correctly. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he interjects, trying for a casual tone, but it comes out a little desperate. Remus freezes. He barrels onward. “It probably wouldn’t’ve worked anyways, and it’s not like anyone really cares.”

Remus’ eyes darken. He looks pissed. 

“Fuck you,  _ I  _ care,  _ dumbass,”  _ he hisses, baring his teeth like an animal. “I don’t  _ care  _ if you hate me, alright, I don’t care if we haven’t talked in years, I don’t care because we’re  _ fucking twins  _ and if you die I’m not gonna  _ have _ one!”

Remus’ voice breaks, and Roman shrinks back as best he can with the strap around his upper torso. He’s never seen this side of Remus before - usually he’s light-hearted, gory, creepy,  ~~ and funny ~~ , not… protective, fierce, and emotional. It’s a little terrifying.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and closes his eyes. “Sorry.”

There’s a moment of tense silence. 

“Why?” The barest, raw whisper. “Why did you try to kill my brother?”

Roman doesn’t answer. 

The truth is, he doesn’t know. He knows all the reasons why his death won’t matter. He knows that he’s drained, emotionally and physically, and he knows that he’s hurting. But… he doesn’t know why he wants to die. He’s not even sure he  _ does. _ It’s just… living is pointless for him. There’s not enough to look forward to, not enough to balance out all the negative parts in his pathetic existence. How could he want to live? ~~Why does he?~~

There’s not really much of a reason for him to be suicidal. Maybe the loss of the callback. Maybe being _used_ by his family for nothing more than to reach their own ends. Maybe being alone, maybe feeling like he has no right to cry about his scars because _it’s_ _not self-harm, he got over it without even trying._ But… he’s used to disappointment. He’s used to _being_ a disappointment. It shouldn’t matter anymore.

“I don’t know.”

It’s quiet again. Roman can hear rustling, and the faint sound of Remus’ leg bouncing up and down erratically. He can hear the deep, a-little-too-fast breaths coming from his twin. He can smell the weird ocean-slash-dumpster scent of Remus’ room. He can feel the strap and the warm, heavy blanket over him. 

“I care about you.” 

It sounds broken. Raw. Remus’ voice cracks in the middle and it ends in a sharp inhale. Roman almost doesn’t believe that he hears it right, he thinks he must be high on the blood loss because why would Remus care about _him?_

“I thought you… you knew, and just didn’t care, so I didn’t want to say anything, but - but -  _ Roman. _ I fucking  _ love  _ you. Don’t do this shit ever again, got that?” Remus continues, and the air is stolen from Roman. He’s almost weightless.   


It goes unspoken, but Roman can almost hear the thoughts crowding Remus’ brain right now. Thoughts of blood, thoughts of death, thoughts of being alone. For once they’re the same thoughts as the ones fogging _his_ mind.

“...Okay.” He draws in a hiccuping breath, feels a tear crawl down the side of his face. “I - It’s not exactly p-pleasant, anyway.”

Remus snorts. It’s kind of a sad sound, when it drifts off in the silence. 

He doesn’t know what to do now. Should he just… go back to sleep? It sounds appealing, when his eyelids are so heavy he can’t open them again and his limbs feel like lead. But he can’t shake the thought that if he does, he’ll wake up in his room, and he’ll be alone. Remus will be gone, because he doesn’t need help anymore, and he’ll have to face everyone again and - and pretend that he’s _happy_ that he chose the wedding. 

He’s not. He’s really not. But he should. Now that he’s thinking a little more rationally, Patton’s right. Going to the callback would be selfish, when they could be going to their friends’ wedding and supporting them on their big day. Deceit… he was right too. Thomas  _ is  _ a selfish person, and it’s all his fault. But… maybe if he just… does what Patton says is right, then Thomas will start to be a better person.

Yeah. If he just listens to Patton, everything will be okay, right? He’s  _ Morality.  _ He always knows what’s good and what’s bad, so if he listens to him, then he won’t mess up and try to be selfish again. 

“I was going to yell at you for making Dee cry,” Remus says suddenly. Roman doesn’t have enough time to think about that, his thoughts only reeling with  _ I made Deceit cry?  _ as Remus continues, “But now I think I have to yell at him for making  _ you  _ cry.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that. Part of him feels vindicated. He remembers the compliments and the teasing and the wheedling, insults he was too dense to see until now. Part whispers that it wasn’t Deceit that made him cry. Deceit tried to get them to go to the callback, after all - it was Patton who said they can’t. The rest of him makes him laugh, because it has to be a joke. Remus and Deceit are friends, best friends - he knows that much. There’s no way Remus would yell at Deceit, especially if he’s just been crying, just because Roman tried to kill himself in his bathtub.

He must start drifting off again at some point, because now he’s asleep again, anxiety thrumming in his chest as he wonders if Remus will still be here when he awakens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world twists and morphs, and he finds himself falling, down, down, deeper and deeper as the white is consumed by darkness and suddenly -


	3. Dropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Threats, Self-Bullying, Nightmare

Roman wakes up, the sun in his eyes and his blankets kicked off the bed. He’s exhausted, and he feels terrible, even though he feels like he’s been asleep for at least eighteen hours straight. He doesn’t even feel good enough to make a gay joke. 

He just - he can’t believe that Thomas is giving up on the callback. It’s the opportunity of a _lifetime,_ and he’s missing it for a _wedding._ He can’t believe he was fooled by that _snake_ into thinking that it would be _okay_ to go to the callback. He just _can’t_ believe any of it and he _doesn’t want to._

Heaving a sigh, he snaps himself into his prince costume, adjusts his sash, and runs his hand through his hair. Then he glances in the mirror and deems himself good enough to head downstairs, which is what he does. He pulls open the door, steps out into the hallway, and makes his way to the commons.

He’s nearly down the stairs when he realizes that the commons don’t look right - that living room is _Thomas’_ living room, not _their_ living room. Still, he steps off of the last step, not thinking too much of it.

The room tilts and spins until he’s standing by the TV and the lamp, facing Patton and Thomas, and for some reason he doesn’t question this either. He’s too caught up in the moment - disappointment and anticipation buzzing inside of him.

“ - the _wedding,”_ Thomas grimaces, disappointment and conflict clear in his expression. 

“Oh, come on,” Roman grumbles. Why can’t they just have good things without _something_ coming along to ruin it? Why can’t they just _go to the callback?_ Mary Lee and Lee don’t _need_ them there at their wedding!

“Agh - how is that already almost _here? Agh,_ I can’t miss _that.” Why not?_

“Well, can you reschedule the callback?”

“Reschedule the callback!” Roman chuckles, a little bit desperately. “Oh Patton, you’re adorable.”

Then he’s pouring out his worries and insecurities to his host, the discussion forgotten when he’s trapped in the cold hands of the past. 

“I can’t help but wonder if we as a society are past the days of celebrating dashing princes and acts of bravery… that are edging on stupidity.” If they’re past the days of loving Prince Roman and of hearing about his many adventures, of… of him being Thomas’ hero. 

“What do you mean?”

“I am not _blind,”_ he replies bitterly. “To the reality that Logan has steadily grown more popular than me!” That everyone has. “He’s a _teacher!_ I’m a _prince!_ But look at him now!” He gestures to Logan, and internally winces at the way his argument is undermined by Logan’s rapid consumption of jam. But he doesn’t stop. “He’s just so _cool!”_

He recovers his composure, frustration edging into his voice. “In a way that _I don’t understand.”_

A hundred words flood his mind, a hundred things he could say, has said, is saying - 

_“I feel so_ **_used!”_ **

_“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me behind my back.”_

_“How_ **_dare_ ** _you criticize_ **_my_ ** _work while also utilizing my rhyming skills! That’s like slapping me in the face with my own beautifully manicured sword!”_

_“The one and lonely - ”_

_“No, love is not about reason, Thomas! Love is about taking a_ **_chance!”_ **

_“Wait, what gives?”_

_“Besides, I learned Spanish first, so who’s the_ **_stupid one_ ** _now?”_

 _“When comparing yourself to your friends and what_ **_they’ve_ ** _accomplished, how do you stack up?”_

_“It feels like no matter how hard I fight or what progress I make, something more important always comes around to knock us back to where we started.”_

And then he’s not sure where he is, but he’s completely surrounded, each of the sides looming over him with smiles ticked a little too wide and eyes a little too gleeful. 

“You’re such an idiot!” Virgil laughs. **Stupid, stupid idiot, you’re so fucking dumb.**

“Oh, Roman, how could you possibly believe that you’re Thomas’ hero?” Patton shakes his head in mock disappointment, still grinning. **VILLAIN-**

Logan leans in, bending down, eyes flashing and grin sharpening. “Objectively, Thomas would be better off without you, _Roman.”_

**You should just disappear.**

Remus cackles. “You honestly believed I care? Hahaha- That’s the best joke I’ve heard in _years!_ Truth is, Ro-Ro, none of us need you. You should just go finish the job, huh?”

**You should just die.**

Laughter fills his ears, rips him down, he’s crying blood and it’s pouring out - 

“Maybe you’ll finally get _something_ right, _your Highness,”_ Deceit hisses. 

**Imbecile.**

And they vanish, and he’s alone, all alone, sitting in his bathtub in nothing but black boxers with a razor in his hand. 

_One two three four,_ and without hesitating, he digs the blade in and slices down the artery. 

**They hate you. They all hate you. They’ll be better off without you, you should just** **_fucking kill yourself -_ **

Roman sniffles wetly, hugging his knees to his chest. It’s bright. It’s blinding brightness everywhere, forever, he’s sitting on an endless plane with no ceiling or walls and he’s unmistakably _alone._

Alone, except for the cold, angry voice in his head. 

**You’re so pathetic.**

He feels small. Everything else is so _big,_ and he feels like compared to that, he’s just a child. 

**You’re not a child, stop acting like one!**

“But - ” he tries, then hiccups. His eyes water. He can't talk. Something is stopping the words from coming out, and he doesn’t want to hear his voice. The thought of hearing it makes him feel gross, disgusting, _bad._

 **Good! You** **_are_ ** **gross, you** **_are_ ** **disgusting, you** **_are_ ** **bad, and don’t forget it! God, you’re so fucking** **_obnoxious._ ** **You sho ul d j us t d i e**

The world twists and morphs, and he finds himself falling, down, down, deeper and deeper as the white is consumed by darkness and suddenly - 

He wakes up, and there are two bright green eyes inches away from his face. He jerks back with a yelp and a whimper. 

Then, without thinking twice, he throws his arms around Remus and pulls him down, clutching the back of his shirt tightly. His left wrist hurts a lot, but something in his throat hurts more, and he really really wants a hug. He sobs, burying his face in Remus’ neck.

Part of him - a small, nagging part of him - says _don’t, don’t, you’re a prince, princes don’t need hugs, princes don’t have nightmares, princes don’t cry. Stop it. Let go, pull back, laugh it off, don’t -_

But he wants Remus.

“Um, Ro?” 

Remus is trying to pull away, and he thinks _no!_ as his hold tightens desperately and he whines pleadingly. He stops trying to leave, but Roman doesn’t relax, terrified that the moment he does he’ll try to pull back again. He doesn’t want Remus to leave, and he’s devastated that Remus wants to. 

“Hey, hey, um… it’s okay,” Remus says oddly. “I’ve got you?” Roman shrinks a little under the uncertainty in his voice. Remus rushes forward. “I mean - I got you! You’re okay, I promise, if anyone wants to hurt you they’re gonna get their eyeballs impaled and their brains pulled apart like soggy ramen noodles and - fuck, probably not helping, um - don’t worry, alright? I’m gonna protect you, ‘cause we’re twins, yeah? We gotta have each other’s backs. Spines - I mean, no, not spines?”

He nods into Remus’ neck, sniffing back another sob. Yeah… Yeah! Remus is gonna protect him. He likes him, he doesn’t want him to die, he doesn’t want him to disappear - the voice lied! Right? He doesn’t have to go… 

_Jus’ a nigh’mare, jus’ a nigh’mare, m’ okay, Rem’s here, he’s gonna make ev-y-sing okay!_

“Okay, uh, hang on a moment - ” Remus snaps his fingers, and something shifts. Then he helps him sit up. Roman keeps his tight grip on Remus’ shirt and his face in his neck. “There! You… um, you okay? I’m kinda shit at this whole ‘comforting’ thing, so like… there, there?”

He giggles, pulling back his head so he can make a scrunched-up face at Remus. 

Remus grins delightedly, then frowns. “What’s up, Ro? You’re acting weird, and if I didn’t know better I’d think you were high on something _definitely_ not Pat-Daddy Approved.”

He pushes his lips to one side, pouting. He doesn’t know what “high” or “Pattady-pooved” means, but Remus sounds like he’s talking about _him._ “M’ _not!”_

Remus makes some drawn-out, funny noises. Then he shrugs, grinning again. “Ah, fuck it. I act weird all the time! Who even cares? Alright! So! You hungry?” Roman hesitates, then nods. “‘Kay, I can go get something from the kitchen - I can’t just conjure it up, ‘cause I’ll just mess it up, but whatever. I don’t think you wanna see Dee right now, so… you gonna be okay alone for five minutes?”

No! No! He shakes his head frantically. He doesn’t wanna be alone! He wants Rem, he can’t be alone, he wants to come too!

“Okay! Okay, you’re coming then,” Remus decides. Roman relaxes a little. He stands up, holding him so that he doesn’t fall, then adjusting him so that he’s carrying him like a koala. “Alright, let’s get some breakfast!”

Roman decides that he really likes being carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a moment, he lights up, remembering compliments and how nice it felt to have someone on his side. But then he remembers -


	4. Efforts Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Flashback, Bad Mindset, Drinking, Tired Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did about four hours of research and note-taking on SS eps. Here's a little spoiler, this is going to be cannon-compliant for all episodes available as of today~

Roman does _not_ want to be set down. He just wants to be held. It’s so, so warm… With Rem holding him he feels secure, like nothing can hurt him and like everything will be okay. He doesn’t even care that he’s being weird and making things ten times more difficult for Remus, and he’s happy because Remus doesn’t seem to care either. 

He looks around, eyes wide, taking in every detail of the unfamiliar space. It’s dim, and there are lots and lots of books on the bookshelves, and spiderwebs between the rafters. There are a lot of weird paintings hung up on the walls, and some of them are funny and some of them are really gross and the rest are kinda scary so he doesn’t look at them for very long. Everything is really soft and comfy, but also really cool looking, black and velvet and ma-hog-annie. 

The kitchen is kinda weird too, he thinks. There are some stains on the walls and a lot of chips in the countertops and there’s a dent in the pan on the stove. But it’s really clean, and everything’s put away, and the fridge is full of stuff. Remus is showing him. 

“Alright, what do you wanna eat? I’m not gonna give you any suggestions because of obvious reasons, but if you want whipped cream on toasted cucumber just lemme know, yeah?”

Roman pulls a finger into his mouth. There’s so many options! There’s eggs and milk and carrots and leftover spaghetti and juice and cream cheese and pickles and lots and lots of other things! He doesn’t know what to pick. It could be anything! 

But as time turns, he starts to panic and just points at the spaghetti, worried that if he takes too long then maybe Rem will get mad, or bored, or decide that he’s too picky. 

“Spaghetti?” At Roman’s nod, Remus reaches forward and grabs the container with his free hand, then steps back and closes the fridge door. He pulls open a drawer, picking out a fork, and takes them both to the table. 

“So!” He sets down the spaghetti and takes a seat with a thump. Roman’s glad that he doesn’t make any move to let him go. Remus grins as he unsnaps the lid. “We’re gonna talk more later about what happened, who all I need to maim and murder and the like, but right now I’ve got a super important question!” Roman nods, wide-eyed. He’s gotta pay attention, ‘cause it’s _super_ important! “Whaddya wanna do today?”

He breaks out in a fit of giggles. That’s not super important! That’s just _silly!_ He gets control of his giggling so that he can think about it. He doesn’t want Rem to let go of him. Maybe they can watch movies! That way Rem won’t have to let go of him and he can get lots of cuddles, ‘cause cuddles are the _best._

 _No. Leave,_ commands the older, more mature part of Roman in the back of his mind. _A prince does not need cuddles. Go back, you have to go tell Patton that you’re okay, you have to get together ideas for presenting them to Logan, you have to apologize to Virgil for siding with the snake, you have to check up on Thomas, you don’t have_ **_time_ ** _for cuddles!_

He worries his lip, playing at a chip in the table. 

“Ro?” Rem asks, drawing back to look at him. He’s frowning, and looks a little disappointed. “What’s wrong?” he jokes. “You too good to spend time with your evil twin?”

Roman’s lip trembles and his eyes fill with tears.

“No! No, wait, sorry, if ya hafta do somethin’ else you can go!” Remus assures hurriedly, panic edging into his voice. “I didn’t mean that! And if you _do_ gotta go, then you can always come back, also, please do come back? I’d rather not have to break into your room and find you bleeding out in your bathtub again, yanno?”

~~_One two three four, and then without hesitating, he digs into his skin and slices down the artery. It burns. There’s so much red. He can feel it draining from his arm, tugging on his heart, it burns so fucking much -_ ~~

“N-no,” he says, sniffling loudly and wetly, putting a hand on his hurting wrist. “Don’ hafta go! W-watch movies?”

“Ye-yeah! We can do that! Um, how ‘bout you just eat right now, okay? And… while you do that I can just list some movies and you can nod or shake your head, like a maraca, ooh I wonder if - nope, no, just ignore that bit,” Remus rambles nervously. He laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he’s happy, more stressed than anything. “Sorry, I told you I’m shit at this.”

Roman nods and reaches out, picking up the fork and stabbing a forkful of spaghetti. He feels a bit uncomfortable, and his heart is beating fast, but he doesn’t want to hurt Rem’s feelings even more. He wants Rem to like him! He doesn’t want to be difficult or selfish or mean. When he puts the fork in his mouth he opens really wide so he won’t make a mess and makes sure to close his mouth while he chews.

“Alright! Prob- I mean, definitely no horror movies, right?” He shakes his head quickly. “Yeah, um. Okay! No pornos either, I’m guessing. Um, Disney! You like Disney, right?” He nods eagerly. He does! He _loves_ Disney! “Cool! Um, Black Cauldron?” He hesitates. He likes that one, but it’s not his favorite… he nods anyway and pokes another forkful of spaghetti. “Lilo and Stitch?” He smiles and nods happily. “Stockh- I mean, Beauty and the Beast?” Yeah! Roman nods again and eats another forkful. “Um… Mulan?” He lights up and nods enthusiastically. That’s one of his favorites! 

Remus pauses and turns to give him a teasing look. “Are you just gonna say yes to every Disney movie I give ya?”

Roman ducks his head and nods sheepishly, unable to keep the smile off his face. 

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” Rem jokes. He notices that Roman’s finished the spaghetti and looks briefly surprised. Then he takes the fork from his hand, puts it in the empty container, and stands up. Roman yelps, nearly falling, but Rem catches him and pulls him back up, bouncing him up to a more secure position again. He giggles and wraps his arms around Rem’s neck so that he won’t fall. 

Rem puts the container and the fork in the sink, then looks at it for a long moment. “I’m… just gonna leave that there for now. Maybe it’ll grow mold. Then I can scrape it up and find out if mold can grow mold!”

He wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue. “Gross!” 

“Aw, I try!” Rem grins delightedly. 

“Who are you talking to, Remus?” 

Roman looks over Rem’s shoulder and sees a very tired side wearing a black hat, a yellow shirt with black suspenders and a bowtie, and black slacks. For a moment, he lights up, remembering compliments and how nice it felt to have someone on his side. But then he remembers -

“Roman,” his tone hardens, taking on an edge as his two-colored eyes lock with Roman’s. Without looking away, he asks, “Remus, what is Roman doing here.”

_“It’s actually spelled W-r-o-a-m-m-i-n,”_

_“Oh, you know I love you!”_

_“I didn’t mind Roman’s little, ‘Aunt Patty in the Hospital’ excuse.”_

_“You want that callback_ **_so bad_ ** _and it will_ **_crush you_ ** _if we miss it.”_

Roman’s eyes well up with tears.

“Dee,” Rem says sharply. It’s startling, yanks him out of his thoughts. He blinks at his older brother in shock. He barely notices Deceit flinch minutely. “You _know_ how badly he wanted the callback. The lights pressured him into giving it up, like a smoke-circle at a high-school party - he lost even more than you did in that courtroom. So I’m gonna hang out with him, ‘cause those fuckers ain’t gonna do _shit_ \- you heard them! They were _thanking_ him, telling him he did the right thing! That’s not what he needs!”

“Since when do you care about what Roman wants?” Deceit retorts, just as sharply. His s’s are emphasized, hissing. Roman doesn’t like how that makes him feel so he shrinks in on himself as best he can and buries his face in Rem’s shoulder. 

Rem’s hold tightens on him. “Fuck off, _Deceit,_ you _know_ it’s not the same.”

Roman can’t tell what’s happening, because his face is in Remus’ shirt, but Deceit sighs heavily and takes a deep breath. 

“Sorry, Re. I’m just… I’m tired. Go have fun with Roman,” he says. “He _doesn’t_ look like he needs it.”

Roman looks up just in time to see Deceit grab a bottle of something and leave, shoulders lax and exhausted. He looks at Rem questioningly, but Rem shakes his head. “He’s gonna get plastered, I’d bet my ass on it,” he huffs. “Alright, let’s go watch some hetero, white-washed, saccharine bullsh- I mean, some Disney!”

“O-okay,” he mumbles, glancing disheartenedly at the hallway Deceit vanished into. He thought he was nice. It’s mean to call someone evil or bad just because they’re different, that’s what he learned from Virgil, but… but everyone’s so mad at him for being nice to Deceit, and Deceit’s mean… 

Patton says he’s bad. Lying is wrong. And Patton is Mo-ral-itty, so he’s never wrong. 

Rem flops onto the couch, making Roman fall too and making him burst into laughter and snuggle close. Rem snaps, and the TV turns on, and the Disney castle music starts. He quiets down and watches, eyes wide, wanting to take in every detail even though he’s seen it so many times that he knows all the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman doesn't understand why Remus looks like all the blood has just drained from his face. After all, it's not like -


	5. A Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Remus being VERY Remus, Referenced Self-Harm, Horror?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I'm a little. Let me tell you, it's really hard to find time to regress in a house with six others, most of whom never leave the house. Anyway, here's a longer chapter!

Roman finds himself starting to slip out of his… state as the second Disney movie (Mulan!) ends, and becomes all too aware of the burning warmth of his brother that he’s snuggled up against. He has mixed feelings about this. Wondering _what on earth_ just happened, for one - he’s never felt small, for lack of a better word, outside of his room before. Honestly, he thought it was impossible. He also _really_ likes being close to someone; he can’t remember the last time he got to cuddle anyone. But… then there’s the fact that it’s _Remus._

He should step away, he thinks, as they make their way through Beauty and the Beast. Come up with an excuse, apologize for being out of character, brush it off, _anything._ He should laugh, should stand up and leave, say that it’s stupid and that he doesn’t know why he bothered. He has to go back! He has to reassure everyone that he’s happy that he made the right choice so that they won’t hate him or call him selfish, and he has to be productive, has to come up with ideas and write them out and watch cartoons in his room until he falls asleep - maybe Roman’s already doing that one, but he can never relax when he’s not alone.

But… he really wants Remus. No one else will understand that he’s not happy, no one else will take care of him, no one else will measure up to the level of effort that Remus has put in to try and help him feel better in the last two days. 

Roman doesn’t want to lose that. 

Maybe he can wait until tomorrow to do all the things he needs to do - maybe today he can just… take a breather, forget about everything he’d lost, and maybe work on that relationship with Remus.

“Ooh, I bet they’re gonna fuck in her room~ She’s probably disappointed that he’s such a vanilla pri- mmm I mean that he’s not a beast anymore,” 

“Ew!” he wrinkles his nose at the thought of what Remus is implying. “What the heck, no, that’s just gross!”

“Kink shamed by my own twin, what is the world coming to -” Remus bemoans dramatically, his cackling laughter undermining his argument. He’s been giving commentary on the movies every couple minutes, and at first Roman didn’t really understand most of it, but now he most definitely does and he’s doing his best to defend the integrity of the films while fighting off laughter at about half of Remus’ “notes”. 

“I did _not_ need to know that,” he gags. 

“That’s what he said~”

He blinks a couple times, then turns to stare incredulously at Remus. “I don’t - what - I don’t even think that’s an innuendo, that’s just _gross _.”__

____

Remus just grins, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Roman can’t help it - he nearly falls off the couch in surprised laughter, and Remus looks so delighted by this development that he can’t bring himself to try and hold back like he usually would.

____

When he glances at the TV, after recovering from his laughter, the credits are rolling. To his surprise, he finds that he actually feels… a lot better. He didn’t think that was possible, to be honest. He can’t remember a time when he spent time with someone and actually felt _better_ afterwards than he did beforehand. Maybe on his birthday…? No… they’d forgotten until the day of, and he was - still is - disappointed that they didn’t just forget entirely. The celebrations were so _awkward,_ so forced… 

____

“Hey, Roli-Poli, you cool?” Remus asks, snapping him out of his thoughts. He smiles, a genuine smile, not one of his fake ones that he _knows_ aren’t good enough to pass as genuine but that everyone pretends do. 

____

“I’m better than just _cool._ I’m absolutely, unquestionably amazing!” Roman declares, even if he doesn’t believe it. He might be _doing_ well, but he himself? He’s anything but amazing. He’s awful, selfish, stupid, he’s such a bumbling _idiot -_ yeah. His mood has soured. Still, he tries to make up for it by adding, “Thanks, bro. Maybe… if you… I mean, I’m gonna go to the Imagination now, and if you want you can come too?”

____

“FUCK yes!” The way Remus lights up in glee makes the awkward uncertainty worth it. He springs up, snapping himself into his sparkly black duke outfit, and Roman follows, waving his hand and exchanging his clothes - which he’s just now realized are Remus’, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that - for his prince outfit. He summons his sword, and Remus’ eyebrows fly up in surprise.

____

“Whatcha gonna do with that? I didn’t take ya for the type to go looking for a fight, Prince Perfect,” he questions teasingly, summoning his morningstar and swinging it up to rest on his shoulder. Roman laughs it off and sheaths his sword for now.

____

“Nah, I haven’t done that in months,” he replies, grinning. “Don’t really need to go looking for the pain anymore, just kinda grew out of it.”

____

Roman doesn't understand why Remus looks like all the blood has just drained from his face. After all, it's not like - 

____

Remus lunges forward, shoving Roman back until his back slams into the wall. His eyes are narrowed and his hands are shaking. 

____

“Rem, wha-” 

____

“You used to self-harm!? Fuck Roman! At _least_ tell me you told someone!” Remus interrupts angrily, desperation edging into his voice. ~~_“Don’t tell me you’ve been hurting for so long and I never fucking noticed!”_~~ he doesn’t say, but Roman hears all the same. He denies it. Remus - he doesn’t know, he doesn’t _know_ that he shouldn’t care, right? Because there’s no way _he’s_ the only one who cares, not when Roman’s been such a fucking jerk - not when he’s brushed him off and not when he left for a FamILY that - that doesn’t care as much as he does! Remus has to be wrong, he _can’t_ be right, because **_Patton is Morality and Morality is never wrong._**

____

His silence is answer enough. Remus lets go of him and steps back, anguish and pure _pain_ in his eyes and in the way his shoulders are half tense and half dropped in desolation and in the way his chest rises and falls laboriously.

____

Roman feels something inside of him shift. His shoulders set. He walks forward and embraces his brother in a tight hug that says he’s _here._

____

_I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t cry. It’s okay._

____

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and he has to sniff back sudden tears. “It’s okay. I’m okay, I promise, it wasn’t - it wasn’t like that. Self-harm is like an addiction, right? You don’t just get over addictions. I just kind of… grew away from it, so it wasn’t self-harm, just… just a bad coping mechanism.”

____

“That’s the same fucking thing,” Remus hisses, but his voice is choked with emotion, so it doesn’t quite carry the same threatening tone as it’s probably meant to. 

____

Roman wants to deny it, but that… that’s exactly what he’s been starving to hear. That he wasn’t making it up. That his pain was _real._ That maybe, maybe it’s okay for him to cry about his scars. Tears are slipping from his eyes and down his face, and with those words, the ones he’s been longing to hear, he breaks into heavy, choked sobs.

____

It feels achingly good to let his feelings out and to know that he _can._ He’s allowed to. Remus cares about him, _Remus cares about him,_ and that’s a revelation that he still can’t quite wrap his head around but he thinks maybe… maybe he can believe it.

____

When he runs out of tears and his sobs turn to sniffles and then to deep, slow breaths, he draws back and rubs the cold tear tracks from his face, giving Remus a shaky smile. When Remus smiles back tentatively, his becomes more real, and he laughs a little. “Thanks. I… I needed that.” He rubs his face again. “Let’s go now, I don’t want to run out of time before I have to go back.”

____

“Yeah, sure fucker,” Remus takes a deep breath and puts on a sharp grin, showing the Remus that Roman knows. Acidic, energetic, _excited._ “Let’s go maim the shit out of some motherfucking monsters gay from fucking _hell!”_

____

They use Remus’ portal, which is a somewhat eye-murdering acid green, and Roman is surprised when he doesn’t immediately step into a scene ripped from a grade-A apocalyptic horror film, instead finding himself in a dark, blood-moon-lit forest with prickly buzzing in the air and unsettling silence.

____

The trees are birch trees, but they don’t have any leaves and the white in the dimly lit night makes him think of clean white bones stabbed into the ground. Roman thinks it’s a very interesting, if terrifying, effect; usually dark forests have dark trees, not ghostly white ones that just send shivers down spines and hearts racing.

____

“Like it?” Remus asks gleefully, eyes wide, nearly crazed. Roman can see past his sharp smile and the gleam in his eyes, though, and sees the vibrating excitement and anxiousness. Remus doesn’t want him to like it, he wants him to hate it, but he’s nervous that Roman’s gonna decide that he doesn’t want to be here after all and turn back. 

____

Roman turns to him, grinning. “It’s absolutely terrifying.”

____

“Perfect!” Remus exclaims, and Roman’s almost worried that he’s going to explode from the amount of energy he has and _keeps getting more of._ He looks like if he doesn’t do something right now, he actually might.

____

Fortunately for both of them, Remus grabs his uninjured hand and pulls him along as he practically skips through the forest. Roman’s heart jumps every time a shadow darts past or he stumbles over a root, and he shrieks when something with too many glittering eyes launches into their faces and pulls up at the last second, vanishing into the darkness. Remus’ face looks like it’s going to split from how widely he’s smiling, and whenever Roman yelps or jumps he giggles delightedly.

____

He laughs once the startled fear falls back, and finds that it’s actually kind of fun when he knows that he can’t really get hurt and Remus is enjoying himself. 

____

Then the shadows seem to thicken, and Remus slows down a little, giggling every few seconds and looking around. He’s clearly expecting something to happen, and based on his giggling, it’s gonna be something _blood-curdlingly terrifying._

____

He finds himself bracing for whatever it is, jolting at every sound and laughing in relief when nothing comes of them.

____

Until something tears out of the ground, dirt and dead leaves exploding out, and they’re slammed to the ground by something bone-white and glitchy. Roman screams, and Remus cackles in laughter that almost sounds like his own sort of scream. 

____

The thing crackles, and Roman doesn’t know how else to describe the sound, nor does he have the time to try because it suddenly pulls back and somehow vanishes into the shadows, and then a weight slams into his back and throws him forward. He smacks into a tree, face and arm bursting into stinging pain.

____

He climbs to his feet and draws his sword just in time to swing at the charging thing, barely registering Remus bashing it with his morningstar from _on top of it_ before it twists out and in and around and then _screams._

____

Roman’s sword slams in about four inches then lodges in the thick, bone-like thing. It’s yanked from his grip, and he ducks and rolls under a swipe from one of its claws, or maybe its tail? He doesn’t have the time to try and tell what’s what, okay!?

____

Remus is flung off the thing’s back and hits the ground _hard,_ but he gets back up, so Roman keeps his efforts to trying to get his sword back. The problem is that the thing is fucking _fast,_ and every time he gets close it either slips away or launches forward, sharp parts pointed at him and coming _closer and CLOSER_ and he has to _get OUT of the WAY -_

____

Finally, _finally,_ he wrenches his sword out of the thing and darts away from its spear-like _claws? spines? teeth?_

____

Remus slams his morningstar into the razor-like point of one of the thing’s spikes and it _splinters_ and explodes _,_ the thing _shrieking_ in rage. 

____

Roman grins, even though he’s panting and sweating, because now _there’s a weakness._ When the thing turns to him, knife-like appendages coming to stab him through, he swings his sword right into the tip before it can impale him through the throat. His sword makes it two inches, cracks flying through the bone-like white and then _breaking, exploding,_ as the air fills with a crackling scream.

____

They make quick work of the thing once it’s breaking apart, until silence settles over them once more and they’re standing, panting breathlessly, over piles of scattered white shards.

____

Roman looks up at Remus, and their eyes meet. Their faces both stretch into wide grins. 

____

“That,” he wheezes, winded. “That was _fun.”_

____

“Yeah, well,” Remus replies, sucking in another breath and grin widening. _“I_ made it, didn’t I?”

____

Roman rolls his eyes and laughs. “Sure, sure.”

____

He lets himself have another moment to take it in. The leftover adrenaline, the post-fight high, being with Remus and being _happy._ Then he stands up fully, runs a hand through his messy, dirty hair, and lets his grin fall to a satisfied, happy smile. “Alright, I have to go now, but how about we meet in my room tomorrow at, say, five pm?”

____

“Ooh~ sounds fun! You can bet your dick I’ll be there!” Remus replies, winking teasingly. Roman wrinkles up his nose and shakes his head fondly, then summons his portal out and steps into the glass-like ruby.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman freezes and Virgil is glaring and Patton is frowning and Logan is just sitting there and his heart is pounding and -


	6. To Apologize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Toxic Thinking, Flashbacks, Unintentionally Toxic Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do people know that the end notes are spoilers for the next chapter? Do people even read the notes? Such are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

Roman carefully avoids looking at his bathroom door when he turns around after having closed his portal. There aren’t many reasons, but the one reason he does have is enough. ~~_One two three four, and then without hesitation he-_ ~~

He just stands there, in the middle of his room, while he tries to decide on what he needs to do first. He glances over at the clock on his rosewood nightstand. The red numbers proclaim _04:28 PM._ He could probably just stay in his room for the rest of the day - it’s not like that would be _unusual,_ he spends more time in his room than Dr. Gloom! But usually, after a big event like a video or an… argument, he heads out to make amends and make sure that everything’s okay so that he won’t accidentally make a mistake later on. (He always screws up anyways.)

So he takes a deep, bracing breath and runs a hand through his hair. His fingers card through dirt and clumps of hair, and he cringes. Before he registers what he’s doing, he turns to head to the bathroom to shower - ~~_there’s so much red, it hurts so bad, he can feel it draining from his arm and_~~ \- “NOPE!” he turns on his heel and laughs anxiously, just waving the mud away instead. 

Roman usually prefers showering, because when he just waves it away then it feels like it’s still there and it feels weird. Also, he won’t deny that hot showers are one of the blessings of the mindscape that he takes _full_ advantage of. Well. _Took,_ that is. He’s not sure if he’s going to be able to do that anymore, or even if he _wants_ to.

He finds himself examining every detail of his reflection in the full-length mirror by his wardrobe, checking for any inconsistencies or imperfections. Of course, there will always be imperfections, because he’s _Roman._ But that doesn’t mean he can’t try his best to convince everyone else that there aren’t! Or, at least, that _he_ doesn’t see any. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s not sure why exactly it matters that they think he thinks he doesn’t have flaws, because won’t that just make them think him obtuse? 

Roman shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair one last time. _Nevertheless,_ he thinks, _it’s always good to strive for perfection!_ (Actually, thinking that, he feels like maybe there might be something off about that ideal… but he doesn’t really want to think about that.)

He heads across his room and pulls open the door, stepping out into the hallway and closing his door behind him. 

The thing with the Light Side hallway, that he hasn’t noticed until now, having seen the Dark Side’s hallway, is that there are actually two levels. Roman’s room and his ruby colored door, for instance, are at the end of a hall up two flights of stairs. Looking around, there are two other doors on the longer sides of the hallway, the closest to his room being the door to his theatre, the second leading to a studio. The walls are covered in Disney posters, musical theatre posters, and there’s a trophy case where every prize or trophy Thomas has ever received is kept.

Roman starts down the stairs. The first flight of stairs is where the other light sides’ room are, at the ends of three different hallways. Patton’s is the furthest away from Roman’s room, Logan’s is the closest, and Virgil’s is opposite of the other two. He’s been in Patton’s hallway twice, and Patton only has one room and a very short hall. He’s been to Virgil’s three times, and the emo has two rooms near the end of a long, dark hallway: his bedroom and another room that Roman hasn’t been inside. Logan’s, however, he’s been to every week for years. Logan’s hall is by far the most interesting, with ever-changing “facts of the day” lining the walls along with graphs and schedules that are just… aesthetically pleasing. 

He passes them all without seeing anyone, which is anything but unusual. They’re usually in the commons, in the physical world, or in their rooms; not in-between. In fact, usually they just sink out, whereas Roman nearly always prefers to walk. 

Remus’ hallway, he recalls with some effort, is also Deceit’s hallway. The yellow door is right across from the lime green one, and there are a few other doors (some with suspicious warnings and stains on them), and the hall is level with the commons. He thinks there must be some sort of symbolism in there, somewhere, but he doesn’t really want to look deeper into that. 

He starts walking down the last flight of stairs. 

He doesn’t know quite what to expect, honestly. Usually after a big argument, he spends at most two or three hours cooling down, reflecting, and realizing what he’s done wrong before he heads downstairs and gives his apologies. But this time he’s been gone for… two days? He’s pretty sure it’s been two days, but it might’ve been longer.

To be fair, it was a… bigger argument than usual. And certainly, if they knew why he’s been gone, they’d give him a pass. Right? He’s suddenly not certain. Patton doesn’t like Remus, and Patton is Morality and **Morality is never wrong** . But Patton doesn’t know all of the facts! He doesn’t know that Remus cares about him or that he saved his life, and Roman’s _sure_ that if he did then he’d agree.

It’s… almost unfortunate that he’s not going to tell them. But they don’t need to have a whiney prince complaining about wanting to die, that’s just unnecessary and stupid. _He’s_ just unnecessary and stupid…

Then he realizes that he’s made it to the living room, and everything slams solidly into _This is Happening_ so quickly that it almost feels like he’s been hit by a train. They’re all here, they’re all looking, they’re looking at _him!_ Roman freezes and Virgil is glaring and Patton is frowning and Logan is just sitting there and his heart is pounding and - 

And he smiles. 

He’s practiced this smile a hundred times in the mirror and a hundred times in front of them. It’s perfectly crafted - just bright enough to show that he’s happy to see them, no teeth showing, just weak enough to show that he knows he was in the wrong, becoming a little stronger after just the right amount of time to show that he’s accepted it and is ready to do something about it. He brings this smile to his eyes; his eyebrows lift a tick then lower a moment later and he tries to convey honesty with his eyes. Even though it’s a lie.

He steps further into the room and stands where he always stands when he’s issuing an apology - which just so happens to be, if this were Thomas’ living room, where their host stands when summoning them. 

Patton is sitting on the couch next to Virgil, who does not look like he’s doing very well. He looks like he’s wavering between fight and flight, angry and anxious at once. Patton looks okay, at least; relieved, a little stressed. Logan looks irritated, but he usually does. He’s sitting in his armchair as usual, with a half-open book in his lap, watching Roman both expectantly and curiously.

“Where’ve you _been,_ Princey?” Virgil demands, eyes flashing.

“It’s been three days!” Patton adds, concern flooding his voice. He doesn’t stand up and rush to give him a hug, he’s busy keeping Virgil calm.

Roman lets his smile drop by degrees, four stages. His eyes fall to the floor and his shoulders fall slightly. 

“I was… I was just thinking,” he begins, double-checking his tone. No dramatics, he’s sincere, upset with himself. He is. ~~(Patton is Morality)~~ “I must apologize. I truly… I truly did not see what you were trying to show me, and I brushed you off and went against your… better judgement… and I’m sorry.” His voice must be quiet, drop to a mutter where he admits their superiority, and he must finish his statement by clearing his throat, pulling himself back up to his usual stature, and putting on a blinding grin.

“Anyways!” he shifts the subject eagerly. “Are we good?”

Patton beams, but there’s still a glimmer of worry in his eyes. “Of course, kiddo! You made the right choice in the end, and we all make mistakes, right Virgil?”

Roman shifts to look at the emo curiously. Virgil shrugs and pulls his hood over his head, mumbling out something like, _“Whatever.”_

Then Logan speaks up, and they all turn to look at him. “While I am still, ah, ‘salty’ about being pushed to the back, you did what you thought was the best decision - that is, you facilitated a discussion rather than immediately assuming that Deceit was in the wrong. You don’t need to apologize for having your own opinions.”

“But lying is _wrong,”_ Patton shoots back reproachfully. Roman frowns at Logan. Why is he disagreeing? 

“Yeah, Loga-rithm,” he says slowly. “Patton says lying is wrong, and Patton’s never wrong.”

He doesn’t know why that earns him three pairs of odd looks, so he just shakes it off and looks away briefly. Then he turns his head back and heads to the kitchen to get himself some hot cocoa. Yes, it’s April, but so what? He’s metaphysical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He knows he probably shouldn't, but -


	7. Out of Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Toxic Thinking, Miscommunication, Overworking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Roman sinks out and rises up in the physical world, finding Thomas in his bathroom"
> 
> I wasn't thinking - but then I looked back and almost died of laughter. What a scene, huh? (Don't worry, I changed it to bedroom.)

Roman fends off - _answers_ questions for the fifteen minutes he’s leaning against the counter and drinking hot cocoa, and doesn’t quite register who says what. He’s too focused on just coming up with the right answers, keeping them short, keeping them in character, and taking sips at the right times. 

“Are you certain you’re okay missing the callback? I know how much you wanted it,” “Yeah… no, I made the right choice, Thomas needs to go to the wedding to support his friends!” “Why were you gone for so long?” “Oh, I just needed a bit more time to cool down and think and got carried away with a project of mine,” “You’re gonna be here for movie night, right…?” “Of course!” 

There are a few other questions, but then Virgil says something to Patton and they sink out together. Patton waves to Roman as he leaves, saying something about taking care of his dark, strange son. Then Logan asks, after watching them sink out, “Do you want to reschedule our meeting tomorrow?”

Roman almost chokes. Fuck, he completely forgot about that! He doesn’t have anything - and it’s already almost the end of the day, he’s gonna have to pull an all-nighter - wait - “Reschedule?” he asks incredulously, setting aside his cocoa for the moment. “Mister Lister - _reschedule?_ Have I stepped into an alternate universe? Did I hit my head that hard? What in the entire lavish _Imagination_ would make you be okay with _rescheduling?”_

Logan stands up, giving him a harsh, calculating look that makes his stomach twist. He flinches. What did he do? What did he say? Why does he look like Roman did something wrong? He runs through his words - is it the nickname? He does that all the time though! Is Logan mad because he suggested that he’s okay with rescheduling, is Logan only offering out of politeness or what?

“I care about y- about Thomas being at his best,” Logan says firmly. Roman shrinks back just a little under his glare. “You are Thomas’ Creativity, and if you need a break so you won’t work too hard and reach creative and/or emotional burnout, then of course you can take one. I’m not going to force you to be punctual 100% of the time, Roman. That would be illogical, not to mention counterproductive. The fact that you seem _surprised_ by this is… concerning, to say the least.”

Now, he doesn’t have time to unpack all of _that…_ or, technically speaking, he does; he just really doesn’t want to. He just lets his reeling thoughts puzzle out the biggest parts of Logan’s little lecture. It’s okay to take a break to prevent creative burnout, he’s not gonna force him to be punctual all the time, he’s Thomas’ Creativity, Logan cares about him, _wait what,_ he’s concerned about Roman’s intelligence - hold up, hold up, _Logan cares about him?_ He didn’t think - but - why - no, he’s misinterpreting, Logan doesn’t care about him, he cares about his _function._

“Wh-” he laughs uncomfortably, picking up his cocoa again. He doesn’t take a sip, though, just relishes the warmth in his hands. He has to make sure he sounds right, that he’s taking this revelation in character. “I didn’t think you had _feelings,_ Roboto Mono! Well, I assure you, you will not have to ‘reschedule’, my dear nerd. I’m Creativity! I have plenty of ideas for our meeting tomorrow, and I truly am feeling better now.”

Logan examines his eyes skeptically, but he nods and slowly takes his seat in his armchair again. “Very well. But if you do need to reschedule a meeting, keep in mind that I won’t fault you unless it’s particularly frivolous or unless it starts to be a problem.”

Roman waves his hand dismissively, finishing off his drink and setting it down with a clink. “Yeah, yeah, whatever nerd. I’m gonna go check up on Thomas now.”

Before Logan has the time to say anything else unsettlingly out-of-character, Roman sinks out and rises up in the physical world, finding Thomas in his bedroom. He’s just sitting on his bed, cross-legged, laptop in his lap. He looks pretty focused, but his fingers aren’t typing anything so he’s probably just watching Parks and Rec. Roman is very disappointed. He has all this time to do whatever he wants with his life and he wastes it on something he’s already seen? It almost feels like a personal insult! Which, of course, translates to a brand-new bruise forming on his arm. It’s a good thing he’s wearing long sleeves.

“Thomas!” Roman greets enthusiastically, not letting his disdain show. His host startles and looks up, pausing the show and breaking out into a wide smile. “Roman! Hey! How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” he brushes off, plopping down next to Thomas and leaning in closer. “I was actually wondering how _you_ were faring!”

Thomas frowns briefly, but smiles and shuts his laptop so that he can turn and properly talk to him. Roman can’t help but feel delighted by that - Thomas doesn’t usually stop what he’s doing when a side appears, so this almost feels like a compliment! “I’m better now that I know what I’m going to do about the callback. Actually, I’ve been meaning to thank you for that again, Roman; you really pulled through there, even though it was hard for you.”

He flinches. It shouldn’t have been hard! He should’ve known to just believe Patton from the beginning. He shouldn’t have even _entertained_ Deceit, let alone _sided_ with him! It’s not supposed to be hard for heroes to do the right thing, it’s not supposed to be _tempting_ for them to do something bad, and he hates that everyone keeps bringing it up. 

But he just grins and shrugs. “What can I say? I just want what’s best for you.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agrees, smiling proudly. Roman flushes in embarrassment, but he can’t say that he doesn’t love the praise. 

He stands up again and lifts his hands, looking into the distance dramatically. “Well, I must go now, those creative endeavors aren’t going to make themselves!”

Roman sinks out to his studio and immediately waves himself into a brown and red sweater, keeping the pants but vanishing the boots. He’s not quite in the mood for onesies right now, but he’s definitely not in the mood to wear his prince costume when he has _so much_ to do right now.

He knows he probably shouldn’t, but - yeah, he’s gonna pull an all-nighter. There’s _no way_ he’s going to show up to his and Logan’s meeting tomorrow with nothing but a couple ideas from Saturday. And there’s no way he’s going to go back and ask Logan if they can reschedule, because he already turned him down, damnit, and he’s not going to go back on his word! That would mean admitting that he _lied,_ and he’s absolutely not going to give anyone _more_ reason to think that he’s a bad person.

His studio is two levels - what is it with him and stairs? The first has his desk in the center, facing the door. His desk is large, one of those desks that bend around the chair as well, like three desks pushed together to make three sides of a rectangle. There are numerous art supplies and papers, a couple open books, a water bottle, and a laptop on his desk _alone._ There are bookshelves lining the walls with Shakespeare, mythology, storybooks and poetry. His easel and painting supplies are in the left corner, and in the far left corner is his recording room and his ukulele. On the right wall is a wood staircase, each step individually attached to the wall, with a couple red and orange beanbags and a lamp underneath. 

The second level is where his mini-stage, sewing table, and corkboard are. It’s smaller than the first level, because it has a railing and can look down on the lower floor, but Roman doesn’t need it to be bigger. If he did, then he’d just make it bigger.

He pulls out his rolling chair and takes a seat, then pulls forward and opens his laptop. It immediately goes to log-in, so he taps in his PIN - 6416, the date of the first Sanders Sides episode - and it opens to his word document titled _#207._ There are only four ideas listed, all barely even rough drafts.

A glance at the time in the corner of the screen tells him _4:56 PM._

Roman runs a hand through his hair and drops his elbows onto his desk, burying his head in his hands and taking deep breaths. _Calm down,_ he tells his panicked heart. _We’ve got until one tomorrow, that’s twenty full hours! We’ve done more in less time, come on, stop it._

He reaches down to the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls it open, revealing a stash of snacks. Chips, cereal, granola bars, and his secret weapon - mint chocolate. Every time he passes another step for an idea, he can have one circle. He takes out the bag and sets it next to his laptop, the smell tantalizing and challenging. He narrows his eyes at it and the copy of his crest printed on the front. 

Suddenly, he feels like this isn’t going to be so hard. The things he does for chocolate, and _mint chocolate_ in particular… 

Once, he recalls, he kissed an actual frog and waxed poetically for a solid three minutes, waving goodbye and not _once_ cringing or breaking character even though he was wearing the literal _ugliest_ dress in existence, just because Virgil dared him to and said if he did it then he’d give him half a pound of mint chocolate. That was one crazy game of Monopoly… 

Yes, he doesn’t think this will be a problem. He cracks his fingers and grins. Oh, he’s going to have so many ideas by tomorrow that Logan’s going to have to do overtime!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. Oops. He probably shouldn't have done that, but, well -


	8. No One Saw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Overworking, Sleep Deprivation, Swearing (more than usual), Unhealthy Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it interesting? Eight chapters in eight days, and yet they only cover four days. Pretty sure there's some sort of symbolism there...
> 
> (Also, note: Roman slips in and out of regression multiple times here, if you're confused.)

As it turns out, mint chocolate, not sleeping, and a steady thrum of stress in the back of his mind make for a very interesting recipe for Roman. 

First comes a rush of productivity, which carries a high that just keeps pushing him higher and higher. His fingers fly, his mind is hyper focused but with a constant river of ideas bubbling up just underneath. He only stops for chocolate and water during the first idea he fleshes out, a video idea where Thomas will start Kingdom Hearts 3 and react with one of his friends. After that he works on an idea for a short, and then he gets carried away and it turns into a series of shorts, which somehow morphs into an idea for a novel that he knows Thomas will probably never write but damnit, _he_ will! 

Then comes the _zone._ He’s completely absorbed in his work, sometimes switching to drawing things out, sketching outfits, researching opportunities for auditions even though Logan usually covers that - and then he turns back to his laptop and adds the eighth idea in _#207,_ formatted with bullet points beneath each idea to give the details that he knows Logan is always looking for.

But then, as the numbers in the lower corner of his screen change fives to sevens to tens, the only thing keeping Roman going is his fear of failure and his mint chocolate. His work slows and suffers, sluggish and losing that spark, but he pushes on. His wrists ache, especially the one he ~~ _doesn’t hesitate before he_~~ _-_ injured. His head hurts, and his eyelids feel like lead, but he keeps blinking, trying to get rid of the exhaustion. He eats a little more chocolate than he probably deserves, and two new ideas make their way into the document.

Once the crash really starts to set in, the exhaustion and aching turns into a complete inability to focus on anything. Reality slips out of focus every time he breaks, and whenever he looks back at the time he finds that ten minutes have passed and he’s done nothing. He can’t even start the next idea, instead just hungrily finishing the bag of chocolate and drinking the rest of his water, then getting out of his chair to stretch.

By one in the morning, Roman’s sloppily painting a large square canvas on his floor, using art sponges and his fingers rather than paint brushes. He’s not really thinking much except “taking a break” and “not tired” and “wanna paint”. He doesn’t know what he’s painting, just that it’s got a lot of red and gray and pale yellow, and it’s all blocky and blurred. 

Then he loses track of time, finding himself just crawling up and down the stairs a couple times and then curling up in a corner to stare at the wall. It’s not very interesting, but he can’t really think much except for vague wants and floaty thoughts. He wants a hug. He wants to sleep. He wants more chocolate. He’s not tired anymore, but his head hurts and his wrist burns and he wants to go to sleep and it’s too bright.

Roman next finds himself writing out a little song on his laptop about something or other, he can’t really remember because the next thing he knows he’s writing another idea for a short, about characters and fanfiction.

Then it’s _6:22 AM_ and he’s suddenly giddy, dissolving into giggles at everything because when did everything become so _funny?_ He eats through four granola bars and a bag of chips, downs another bottle of water, finds another bag of mint chocolate, and ignores all common sense in favor of that intoxicating goodness. He feels just the slightest bit sick, but mostly just hyper, and he decides that it’s the perfect time to see if he can climb up to the second level of his studio just by the wooden support. He can’t, and his arms are really sore now, but whatever.

At eight Roman remembers what he’s supposed to be doing, and he forces himself back to his desk and laptop and the document titled _#207_ with thirteen ideas listed, formatted and drafted out. He reviews his work, edits out some of the worst typos, and deletes one that he can’t make sense of.

He’s really, really irritable now. He swears when he stubs his toe on the way to his studio’s bathroom that he doesn’t remember being there before, swears when he accidentally deletes the whole document and has to click _undo_ even though it’s such an easy fix, swears when he looks at the time and sees that it’s nine in the morning. 

Roman nearly collapses in a wave of _finally_ when he counts his ideas and finds fifteen. That’s his minimum - he never goes less than fifteen, because Logan always rejects about eighty percent of them, and that leaves three ideas that pass. Usually, though, he has about twenty or thirty, because he has a full week to do them. Well, who fucking cares anymore? He can just blame it on the whole shitty argument, that’s believable. It’s true, too, just not because of the reason they’re gonna think. 

He snorts, even though it’s not funny, and rolls his eyes. He’s such a fuckup, can’t even do his work on time. 

He’s also fucking _hungry,_ so he plops down in a beanbag under the stairs (watch out J.K. Wish-She-Were-Trolling, got some competition~) and conjures a bowl of cereal because he’s too bothered to get it from his drawer just so he’ll have to conjure a bowl and milk and a spoon. He doesn’t spill, but he wouldn’t care if he did, because he can just clean it up with a wave of his hand. Yeesh, why does he even have to eat? He’s fucking _imaginary_ and shit, he can fucking conjure shit and vanish shit and summon shit, why does he even _need_ shit? It sounds fake.

He finishes his cereal, vanishes the dishes, and summons a cup of coffee. It tastes bitter and bland, probably ‘cause it’s just _black coffee,_ but he doesn’t fucking care anymore. As long as Roman has some of the nasty bean juice in his system it doesn’t matter. 

Then he crushes the empty cup and tosses it over his shoulder. It vanishes, rather than hit the wall, and Roman waves his hand sharply, throwing out his clothes for his costume. Then he decides, _fuck that,_ and stomps upstairs to go find a better outfit that actually matches his mood.

Roman flips through the rack of outfits he uses most often. A red Spanish skirt, a rusty orange turtleneck sweater, pink leggings, a white crop top - a Victorian-era dress, altered to be actually maneuverable and a little modernized - a black tee, shorts, leggings - he doesn’t feel like wearing any of them, so he rolls his eyes and moves over to the mirror so that he can just summon something else.

He gets rid of his prince costume, so he’s just in boxers and a black tank. Then he huffs. He wants something light, but not lazy - so he decides on a red crop top with his logo in gold, a black skirt, black leggings, and more modern boots with white laces that go up to his knees.

Roman doesn’t _usually_ wear anything other than his prince costume around others, but there are times. When he wrote a song for their first Christmas with Virgil, he wore a Christmas sweater. At movie nights, he wears onesies. When he’s performing he wears different outfits - fuck, that just reminds him of Deceit playing him in his own theatre… and then in the courtroom, and that leads to _~~one two three four, and then without hesitation he digs the blade into his skin and slices down the artery-~~ _

_“Shit,”_ he mutters, glaring at his reflection. “This is gonna be a thing, huh? _Fuck_ that. It wasn’t even that bad! I didn’t even _die!”_

His reflection just mirrors his frustration. He groans and turns around, stalking back downstairs and checking the clock as he goes to pull the door open. It’s around nine forty. 

He stops just outside of his studio. He doesn’t have to do anything until one. Great! He can catch some sleep, wake up at twelve forty, and go have his meeting without letting Logan know that he didn’t actually have all of his ideas ready and that he didn’t sleep all night! 

With that, Roman flicks off the light in his studio, closes the door, and heads into his room. He closes and locks the door behind him. Then, he walks over to the clock on his nightstand and picks it up, setting the alarm for twelve forty - making sure that it’s _12:40 PM_ not _12:40 AM._

He flops onto his bed and passes out.

* * *

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-_

Roman jolts, throwing his arm over the side of the bed and grabbing his sword - then he leaps up and brings it down on the source of the _infernal BEEPing,_ only realizing what exactly he’s attacking when the _BEEPs_ cut off and his vision clears to show a very much broken alarm clock.

Oh. Oops. He probably shouldn't have done that, but, well - he can just fix it. He doesn’t, though. He just looks at it for a long moment, sets down his sword, and turns his back to the clock so he can figure out what he’s supposed to be doing. Roman doesn’t set alarms unless there’s somewhere he needs to be or someone he needs to meet. 

It takes a moment, but then he remembers that it’s _Thursday._ He has a meeting with Logan in twenty minutes! He smooths out his skirt, tugs at the hem of his crop top, and runs a hand through his hair. Okay! Ready!

He summons his laptop and stumbles out of the door, disoriented from his sudden awakening. _Wait, I have twenty minutes, I can’t be THIS early - I’m NEVER this early, that would be a major break in character!_

He stops. He blinks a few times. Then he yawns, staggering backward into the wall, and tries to stop his heavy eyelids from staying closed.

He slides less-than-gracefully to the floor, fighting off another yawn.

 _No!_ He can’t fall asleep again, he can’t miss the meeting! He checks his watch (that he just conjured just now) and reads - wait, _eight minutes!?_ How have twelve minutes passed already!? 

Roman pulls himself to his feet and pushes out his bottom lip stubbornly, glaring at the stairs. He can do it! It’s _easy,_ he just has to - no, _nope,_ he can’t do it.

As time ticks by, he panics and decides to just crawl backwards down the stairs. No one ever goes in the halls, and none of them _ever_ climb up his stairs, no one will see him, it’s _fine._ It takes a while to make it down every step, pulling his laptop down, scooting his knees over the edge, turning to drop his hands to the next step, then pulling his laptop down again. 

Finally, with three minutes left, he reaches the bottom of the stairs and stands up, picking up his laptop. Then he starts walking down Logan’s hall, nervously glancing behind him to make _sure_ that no one saw him.

Roman makes it to Logan’s dark blue door, next to a door that leads to Logan’s library and a door that goes to Logan’s laboratory. He adjusts his laptop, checks the time, and raises his fist to knock on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Roman, how much sleep did you - "


	9. Cassiopeia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Flashbacks, Crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried writing this, it just hits hard for me
> 
> (Don't worry, it's more comfort than hurt. <3)

When Logan opens his door, Roman smiles brightly and fights off another yawn, starting inside as the nerd steps to the side to let him in. Logan looks immediately concerned, but Roman doesn’t really notice. 

“Roman, how much sleep did you - ” Logan starts, but Roman interrupts, “No!”

“No, as in, you didn’t sleep, or as in you don’t want to answer?” 

“No, as in,” he sways a bit as he takes his usual seat on Logan’s bed, but laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling rather than sitting up attentively. “As in…” he trails off. “Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. Fuuuck… Frick. Flip. Fuck. Flipping, frickin’ fuck…” he blinks. “What were we talking about again?”

Logan sets down Roman’s laptop on his desk with two little thuds, then sits down in his slightly squeaky swivel seat. Alliteration! He’s _still_ got it. 

“How much sleep you got last night,” Logan prompts drily.

Roman starts to giggle, but just barely stops himself. He holds up a fist in the air and says, tone akin to one he might have if he was telling the funniest joke in the world, “Zero! I got none-at-all! A prince doesn’t need _sleep,_ Lo-Lo.”

“Yesss they do…? Roman, everyone needs sleep, regardless of their status. Didn’t we go over the effects of sleep deprivation on April… 12th of last year? And why would you stay up all night anyway?”

He hums consideringly. Then he says, giggling, “Busy.”

Logan sighs deeply. He doesn’t say anything, and Roman waits a couple seconds but then he gets bored. How many stars are on Logan’s ceiling? He has a lot, all precise and scaled into constellations, but they’re inverted; the stars are dark and the space is light. Logan explained it once, said something about how it shows that the stars have more substance than space because space is emptiness. 

One, two, three, _four,_ ~~_and he doesn’t hesitate before he digs into his skin and slices down the artery -_ ~~

He whimpers. 

~~_(It burns. It burns so much.)_ ~~

“R—m-n?”

~~_(There’s so much red.)_ ~~

“Rom-n.”

~~_(He can feel the blood pouring out, feel it draining from his arm and tugging on his heart. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much.)_ ~~

“Roman!”

He’s breathing heavily, his heartbeat is roaring in his ears, and his wrist is stinging. He can’t _do_ this right now, he can’t, _why_ is it still _bothering_ him!? He’s so fucking stupid, he’s had so much worse, he’s fucking _died_ and nothing came of that but the _one_ time he gets over himself enough to finally take care of the problem, it sticks around and haunts him like a vengeful poltergeist! What is _wrong_ with him!? And _counting?_ Just fucking _counting_ is making him _burn,_ he’s suck a fucking _coward._

~~_(His boxers are soaked in blood. His hands are covered in it. The smell of copper is overwhelming, it hurts, he doesn’t understand how this hurts so much - he’s already cutting lines into his arm - is he really doing this? One two three four, and then without hesitation he digs the blade into his skin and slices down the artery.)_ ~~

There’s a hand on his chest, firm, a little cold, _real._ He latches onto the feeling like a life preserver in an ocean of slick red with an overpowering smell of copper.

“Roman, I need you to focus on me. You’re panicking. You need to breathe. I’m not mad at you, if that is what triggered this.” Logan’s voice is clear and calm. Nothing about Roman is clear or calm. He strains to listen, to hold onto it, so he can have some purchase. ~~_(It burns. There’s so much red.)_~~ “The Greek philosopher Ptolemy was the first to catalogue the constellation Cassiopeia. The constellation is made up of eight named stars, three stars with known planets, and two messier objects. The mythology behind this constellation is also closely intertwined with the mythology behind the constellation Cepheus. As it goes, Cassiopeia was King Cepheus’ wife, who claimed to be fairer than the fifty sea nymphs of Titan Nereus. Poseidon, whom the nymphs appealed to for justice, sent a sea monster named Cetus to attack the coast of King Cepheus’ kingdom. Cassiopeia was told that to appease the sea god, she would have to…”

~~_(One two three four, and without -)_ ~~

“...chained to a rock in the ocean to be found by Cetus. However, before the sea monster could arrive, the passing hero Perseus caught sight of her. Struck by her beauty, he rescued Andromeda from Cetus and stole her away… ”

~~_(One two th-)_ ~~

“...Later, when they were getting married, one of Andromeda’s former suitors, Phineus, claimed that he alone had the right to marry her. A fight broke out. Perseus, outnumbered, used the severed head of Medusa to stop his opponents. However, the king and queen were also looking and were turned to stone along with the others. Poseidon placed Cepheus and Cassiopeia in the sky, cursing the vain queen to spend half of every year upside down as she circled the celestial pole.”

Roman breathes in, then out. He’s okay. He’s okay… 

“She is often depicted as sitting on her throne, combing her hair to show her vanity.”

Logan is talking. He’s talking about mythology to distract Roman from his mind. His hand is on his chest, giving Roman something physical to hold onto, even though Logan hates physical contact. He’s not… not sighing in exasperation, not talking about the astronomy itself, he’s talking about the mythology because he knows it’s something Roman can understand and wants to listen to.

He’s taking the time to make sure Roman’s okay, even though he doesn’t have to, even though Roman’s been nothing but a stuck-up, selfish _jerk_ to him.

_“I care about y-”_

Before he knows it, Roman’s crying, overwhelmed with the feelings. His hands are holding onto Logan’s arm, looser than before but still desperate for the warmth it’s offering. He’s not looking at Logan, he’s looking at the stars on the ceiling, but he can see him in the corner of his vision, blurred, kneeling by the bed. Logan’s _here._ He’s here.

He’s here. He _cares._

Roman’s chest is shaking with sobs. His temples and jaw are aching. He’s crying, tears streaming down the sides of his face, and he doesn’t want to stop even though it hurts because Logan _cares_ and he _can,_ he doesn’t have to smile, he doesn’t have to pretend, he can just cry and it’s _okay._

“Are you okay?” Logan asks, and the sheer amount of _concern_ in his voice is enough to make Roman break. Through his shaking sobs and blurred eyes, he nods, then gasps for breath and sobs again. He’s more than okay, he’s not fantastic and he’s not horrible and he’s not amazing and he’s not awful but he’s so _overwhelmed_ but it’s _okay_ because Logan _cares._ He’s allowed to cry.

Then he’s laughing, laughing through his tears, because isn’t he a sorry sight? The perfect prince, crying because someone cares enough to help him through a flashback. Strangely enough, he doesn’t feel embarrassed or humiliated or disgusted with himself, he just feels… okay. It probably won’t last, but he’s going to enjoy it while it does.

“I hope you know that we’re rescheduling,” Logan says, a hint of teasing in his voice, but he’s firm at the same time, leaving no room for debate. “You need a break, and sleep. Please don’t push your mental health aside like this, it’s not good for Thomas and it’s not good for _you._ I care about you. We’re friends, are we not? What kind of friend would I be if I made you overwork yourself just to meet an arbitrary deadline that, theoretically, we don’t even need to have?”

“Friend… we’re friends?” Roman asks, desperately hoping that this isn’t a joke or just out of pity.

Logan’s hand rubs his chest comfortingly. “Of course.”

“Oh,”

_Friends._

Remus and Logan, Logan and Remus, Remus and Logan and _Roman_ and Logan and Remus - he has _friends._

Slowly, he starts to realize how out of character he’s being. Prince Roman _never_ cries. Prince Roman doesn’t _get_ panic attacks or flashbacks - Prince Roman doesn’t have _trauma!_ Prince Roman isn’t _surprised_ by the idea that he has friends, because of _course_ he has friends, everyone likes him! Prince Roman is _perfect._ Prince Roman does not get tired or stressed or overworked, and he certainly doesn’t worry those he cares about. 

But Roman did. Roman _is._ And usually, he’d find a way to turn this around and make it seem like just a blip in the ocean, an acting exercise, _something_ that excuses his behavior without letting anyone else know that there’s something wrong. This time, he doesn’t know how he can do that. He doesn’t even know if he _wants_ to. (Patton is Morality and Morality is never wrong. A prince is perfect in every way.)

(Patton isn’t here.)

He sits up, letting go of Logan’s hand and letting him stand up. He smiles weakly, then brings up a hand to his throbbing head. He shakes his head and sighs. “Thank you, Logan.”

Logan smiles back. His lips are mostly settled, but the right corner of his mouth is turned up, the kind of little genuine smile that Roman rarely gets to see. He wants to see it more often. He doesn’t know how to do that. Logan adjusts his glasses and the smile goes away, but something tells him that it’s still there under the mask. “It’s not a problem. Go get some rest, I’ll review your ideas and we can discuss them on Saturday.”

“Same time?” Roman asks, quirking up an easier smile and pushing himself to his feet. 

“Of course.”

“Sorry for… all this, Lo,” he sighs, then smiles again. “See ya, nerd.”

He decides that Logan will understand why he’s not walking like he usually does and sinks out, his chest burning warmly and his hands going up to rub the tear tracks from his face. He cries a lot, he thinks. It’s not unusual. 

_Friend._

Maybe it’s a little better now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, he can't think of any off the top of his head. Wait, there was that one time -


	10. Always Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some Toxic Thinking, Fluff??? (I mean, there's angst too, but c'mon, it's me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm... I'm aiming for almost entirely fluff next chapter, but let's see how it turns out~

When Roman rises up in his room the first thing he does is walk over to his bed. Then he waves himself into a light red onesie, climbs into his bed, and pulls his dozens of stuffies close around him, hugging Missuly, his buttercup-yellow puppy plushie, close to his chest. He flicks tired fingers at his curtains, making them pull themselves closed and leave the room in soothing darkness. 

It’s okay. He doesn’t have to fix his alarm clock for this, because he has four hours and when Remus comes he’ll wake him up, pretty much no doubt about that. And on the off-chance that he _doesn’t,_ Remus will at least see that he’s sleeping and that he’s not trying to back out of spending time with him. 

Really, he’s still reeling from the whole… ‘Logan is my friend’ thing. When was the last time anyone cared? Aside from Remus, obviously. Honestly, he can't think of any off the top of his head. Wait, there was that one time - no, that doesn’t really count, they were only saying that out of pity. Nothing changed. 

_“It’s just… I only ever push you towards your dreams, Thomas, and I never say a bad word about you! Why don’t you want to listen to me more? This whole thing could have been avoided if you did.”_

_“Oh, Princey, I -”_

_“Roman.” “Roman?” “That’s my proper name.” “Oh!”_

_“It felt weird, you calling me Princey when it’s serious talk time.”_

_“Oh, well, Roman, you are so important to me. I genuinely don’t know what I would do without you. You have gotten me through some of my roughest days.”_

If Thomas had stopped there, Roman might look back fondly on that conversation. ~~Maybe that’s selfish though.~~ That’s selfish though. (Morality is never wrong.) He’s not the _only_ one deserving of praise - heck, he’s not even deserving in the first place! 

_“But, I need the other guys too. If I only ever listened to my most wonderful, romantic, fanciful thoughts… I’d be setting myself up for heartbreak.”_

Although… Roman can’t help but smile, ducking his head into Missuly even though there’s no one to hide his embarrassment from, when he thinks about the end of that conversation. 

_“Hey Roman?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“You’re my hero.”_

Roman’s chest almost glows with warmth, and he curls up in his stuffies, shuffling around a bit to get comfortable. It doesn’t take long for his eyelids to slowly blink shut, and it doesn’t take long for his mind to fall into soothing silence.

* * *

It’s warm. Not the kind of warm that comes from sleeping with eleven stuffies under a big fluffy, weighted blanket, or the kind of warm that comes from a really nice dream, but the kind of warm that can’t be replicated. The kind that explodes like fireworks and lightning down a lightning rod, the kind that comes from touch that Roman both loves and fears. At first, he doesn’t really think of anything except that touch comes from someone and that means that somehow he’s not alone.

Did he fall asleep on the couch during movie night? Did he pass out in Logan’s room? Why would Logan be touching him? That’s weird. That’s weird, right? Logan doesn’t like physical contact, and besides, it’s not like they’re friends - 

Oh. 

Friends.

They are? Him and Logan? They’re friends? 

_“Of course.”_

Oh… well. That feels nice. 

Didn’t he sink out? Yeah, he sank out into his room and went to sleep. That’s weird. Why would Logan follow him to his room? That’s not just weird, that’s creepy. 

It smells like… faint maple syrup, from his scented candle on his smaller bookshelf, and vanilla and lavender from his lotion on his nightstand, and it smells kind of salty and earthy. He doesn’t know where that one comes from. Maybe that’s from whoever is snuggled against his back.

Roman probably should be a little more wary and creeped out by someone sleeping next to him that he didn’t invite in his room, but really, there are only so many people in the mindscape and only so many people who could come in his room without permission. One of them is Logan, because he trusts Logan to only come in if it’s important and to not act weird about Roman’s childish room. Another is Thomas, because obviously, if Thomas needs his room he’s not going to say no. The last is Remus, but that one’s because he literally can’t keep him out if he tried - 

Wait, doesn’t he have a meet-up with Remus today? And he feels like he’s slept for at least eight hours, so he probably missed that… 

It’s Remus, then. Remus found him sleeping when they were supposed to do something together, and decided to climb in and go to sleep too. It reminds him of the few days he and Remus got to spend together before the mindscape pulled everyone onto two different sides and Patton told him that everyone on the other one is bad. When they had two beds and one room, but shared the same bed anyway because they needed to be close together, even if they couldn’t be the same person again. 

It felt so empty. So _wrong._ It changed, after a while, but Roman still misses the chaotic energy he remembers having when they were just one Creativity. Not caring about what people say, being completely content with being himself, having fun even if their stories were a little weird and their art was less than good… of course, Roman was like that for a long time after the Split, but it just wasn’t the same, even back then.

Roman sits up, pulling Missuly into his lap. Yep, that’s Remus! He looks so weird being all calm and asleep. He’s wearing a ratty green T-shirt and dark gray shorts; definitely not his usual pajamas. (Roman doesn’t think he even _wears_ pajamas, now that he’s thinking about it. He’s glad that Remus seems to have considered Roman’s probable feelings on the matter.) He has a bed head, which now that he knows what that looks like, looks like his usual hairstyle except a little too puffy.

This is what he’s always wanted. All those days curled up alone on his bed, just staring into nothing with wet eyes and clutching stuffies desperately, longing for someone to hold him until he falls asleep and be there when he wakes up - this is it. Roman can finally hug someone _real,_ someone warm and solid, someone who won’t pull back or ask him if there’s something wrong just because he wants someone to hold him.

And he finds that the sheer amount of happiness that comes from getting what he’s been longing for for so long makes him feel blissfully fuzzy and warm. 

He wiggles happily and lays back down, curling into Rem’s side and hugging Missuly even tighter. To his delight, Rem shifts in his sleep and his arm flops over Roman, sending a whole nother wave of warmth flooding into him. He feels like a little brother, not just someone who happens to have a twin. He feels safe and warm and this is just… everything he wanted it to be.

But now that he’s awake, Roman can’t get himself to fall asleep again. There’s just so many things he can do! He can go into the Imagination and play tag and hopscotch and hide-and-seek, he can watch the next episode of Phineas and Ferb, he can - he can make a board game! He can draw pictures or - or decorate cookies, or put on a play! He can eat food! Food is yummy. He really wants some food. Maybe pancakes? No, that’s _boring,_ he wants strawberries and blueberries and blackberries and bananas and oranges and peaches and pineapple - ooh, what if he put all of that into brownies? A fruit salad brownie! With lots of extra chocolate. Wait, is that what a fruit cake is? Fruit cakes are gross, Thomas tried one before and it was _disgusting!_

Roman huffs and shifts again. He’s so _bored,_ he wants to _do_ something. But Rem’s asleep and he can’t wake him up, because then Rem won’t like him anymore. He gasps in fear. What if Rem doesn’t like him anyways? What if when he wakes up he’s gonna leave? Oh no, he can’t let Rem wake up, he doesn’t want him to _leave!_

But then Rem wakes up anyways, blinking his eyes open blearily, and Roman draws back, hiding behind Missuly in terror. Rem’s gonna leave now, he just knows it!

“Mmna… Hah… Huh…?” Rem mumbles. “Oh! Roman! You’re awake!”

“You too,” he whines before he can stop himself. He slaps a hand over his mouth, dropping Missuly onto the blanket. 

Rem snickers and rolls off of the bed, standing up a moment later and grinning brightly. “Yep! I’m awake, you’re awake, it’s nighttime, and we’re gonna turn into vampires because our sleep schedules are getting so fucked they’re being fucking _railed,_ pun fully intended!”

He doesn’t know where the pun is, but he doesn’t want Rem to think he’s _stupid_ so he giggles and climbs out after Rem, pulling Missuly along by her leg. 

“Okay, so whatcha wanna do?” Rem asks, summoning ten-tack-ls and grabbing onto the ceiling. He pulls himself up and flips upside down, sitting criss-cross applesauce, his chin resting on his fists.

Roman doesn’t like that. Rem’s too far away, he can’t reach him and it’s _cold_ now! He pouts and holds up his arms, not dropping Missuly. Rem cocks his head curiously, but reaches out two more tin-tickles and wraps them around his torso. They’re funny, a little cold and a little wet and when Roman pets one it feels squishy. He giggles. Rem pulls him up to the ceiling too, and he shrieks, clutching them and laughing, half in fear and half in glee.

“Oh, you’re acting funny again,” Rem says, beaming. “Well, we can work with that! Wanna play Truth or Dare?”

He lights up, poking his tongue between his teeth as he grins mischievously. “Yeah! I bet I’mma win!”

Rem raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Ya-huh! I’mma win and den you’ll hafta do evy-sing I say for ever and ever!” Roman declares proudly.

“Mm, yeah, yeah,” Rem agrees, and his face is screwed up all funny, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. Meanie. “How about not forever and ever? I don’t think you like those odds as much as you say you do, Ro-lita.”

“Fine, um, one whole day!” he amends, huffing in annoyance. Ob-vee-us-lee he’s gonna win! He’s the best! N’ Rem just doesn’t want to ad-mitt it. 

“Great!” 

Rem drops them to the floor and Roman shrieks again, then bursts into giggles when Rem slows their fall at the last second. This is gonna be so fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... Remus did dare him to, and he has to admit, he really wants to see what happens -


	11. Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Referenced Suicide Attempt (like once), Implied Eating Worms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I tried. I did! But I couldn't help myself - I just had to add that little bit of angst in there -

Roman’s sitting on the couch right next to the arm, cross-legged in the Beast onesie he reserves for movie nights. Virgil’s sitting upside-down next to him, legs propped up on the back of the couch and arms folded behind his head, and Patton’s next to Virgil on the couch with a big Winnie the Pooh stuffie in his lap. Logan, as always, is sitting as far away from everyone as he can by sitting on the complete other side of the couch. 

Movie night is a tradition that Patton started years ago, and now it’s basically sacrilege to not go to one at _least_ every month. Roman doesn’t usually miss any, and neither does anyone else. He only misses movie nights if he’s out on a longer quest, and that’s not very often. Virgil sometimes, rarely, misses them if he’s having a really bad day. Logan occasionally misses one if he’s busy, but he’s only missed four that Roman can remember. Patton, however, hasn’t missed a single one - though that’s probably to be expected. There’s nothing more important to Patton than FamILY.

When Roman attends, he’s usually the one picking what they watch, because Patton can never choose, Logan only picks documentaries, and Virgil really doesn’t like being put on the spot. Sometimes they vote on it, sometimes they take turns watching something, and sometimes Roman just chooses and there’s no problem. He always takes into consideration what everyone else wants to watch - but if he’s being honest, he usually just picks what he wants to see. _(Selfish.)_

Today, he picked Big Hero 6, a subtle “thank you” to Logan for yesterday. Patton made popcorn, but Virgil’s hogging the bowl; Roman has the remote, and Logan is leaning his cheek on his hand, elbow propped up on the arm of the couch. Everyone seems to be doing a lot better - Roman, certainly, feels like maybe he’s okay after all. He can’t stop smiling from his and Remus’ game of Truth or Dare last night.

Around midnight, they’d gone back to sleep, because Roman really didn’t want to mess up his sleep schedule and _actually_ become a vampire like Remus joked, but before then they’d had around three or four hours to play. And it was… really fun, actually - even if it was more like just Dare because none of them ever picked Truth.

_“I dare you to eat a worm~!”_

_“EW-! bleh, that’s dis-GUST-ing! Pfltlt- I need water and SOAP now! Bleh, okay, um, I dare you to puh-tend to be Pat!”_

_“Okay, okay, um… let’s see… ‘Roman!! You’re smiling!!! Oh my gosh you’re so ADORABLE -’ ugh, I am NEVER doing that again. Fuck, shit, bitch, dick, gotta get that cotton candy outta my mouth - alright! Fuckcuntshitdickbitchfucker- I dare you to tell me the names of all of your stuffies,”_

_“Buhh- mm- okayyy, this is Missuly, and um… this is Mrs Fluffybott-toms, and Sir Willan, Sandy, Lizlie, oh! And this is Borg! Here, hold him, he’s super soft! This is Evlett, um, Nissa, Kitty, Lady Zippa, and Dottin!”_

_“That- hhh- Ro, that’s fucking_ **_adorable_ ** _.”_

_“Nooo! M’ not adorable! Bleg.”_

“The logistics of this ‘bot fight’ are all over the place. The gravity in particular is affecting them as though they’re much larger than they are,” Logan observes, and Roman turns his attention to the movie. It’s only just started, so he hasn’t missed much of anything, but that doesn’t mean that he can just _zone out._ That wouldn’t be very nice at all. Patton put this movie night together, and this is Logan’s favorite movie, he doesn’t want to make them feel bad.

“It’s the _future,_ L,” Virgil says cryptically, not turning away from the screen. He pops another piece of popcorn into his mouth and continues, “Maybe there are magnets. Maybe it’s heavier than it looks. Maybe there are gravity-increaser-thingies. You never know.”

“Are we sure it’s the future?” Roman asks. He’s curious now. “Does it ever say which year it takes place in?”

“True, maybe it’s an alternate reality,” Nightmare on Emo Street agrees, gesturing towards him with a piece of popcorn. 

“If Baymax has feelings, do these have feelings too? That’s mean… making such cute robots fight each other…” Patton says, and his eyes are already wet from seeing the robots dismantling each other.

“Good question,” Roman agrees. His mind wanders back to Dare and Dare.

_“I dare you to flirt with Virgie tomorrow and tell me how he reacts~,”_

He looks over at Virgil. The emo’s wearing his skeleton onesie, and he’s got his signature black eyeshadow under his eyes. His purple hair is leaning away from his face for once, because he’s upside down. He looks relaxed, almost happy, and the smirk on his face is admittedly very becoming of him. 

Roman doesn’t have romantic feelings for anyone, but he’s done his fair share of flirting with the others over the years. It’s fun, truly - a wonderful way for him to compliment people and tell them that he admires them without actually… complimenting them and telling them that he admires them. Like his creative nicknames! Except rather than playful insults and banter, it’s playful praise! 

Still, he can’t say he’s ever flirted with _Virgil._ To be honest, he’s not sure how that’d turn out, what with Pale Parade’s habit of overthinking things.

“Honestly, it hurts a lot more seeing Tadashi alive now that we already know he’s going to die.”

Well... Remus did dare him to, and he has to admit, he really wants to see what happens - so why not?

Roman nods. “True 21, Hot Topic.”

_Just gotta build up to it…_

“Two in one? And you’ve used that one before,” he points out.

He shrugs, raising an eyebrow at the emo. “And it never gets less true, does it?”

Virgil narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, Prince Pricey?”

“Prince Pricey?” Roman repeats. Wow, that one’s _weak,_ is Virgil really okay? “Looks like your looks are deceiving. I’m just sayin’, you’re hot, and you’re a topic.”

Virgil splutters, fumbling with the popcorn bowl and accidentally making it flip and spill all over his chest. His face is _bright red,_ and he’s nearly falling off the couch. Roman bursts into a fit of laughter, gasping to say between fits, “Need- need some help - with that?”

“Roman! We have the same face!” Virgil shrieks, grabbing a handful of popcorn and throwing them in his face. Roman dodges, laughing, and grabs his own handful, throwing it back at the other. 

Roman catches a glimpse of Patton biting at his fingertips and fighting off a smile. He glances towards Logan and accidentally makes eye contact, and the nerd just cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Roman raises his own eyebrow and shrugs.

Then Virgil tackles him. 

It’s probably a bad choice, because Roman’s been fighting monsters and rogues and enemy soldiers in the Imagination for years and he knows exactly how to flip this around and end up pinning Virgil to the floor with his arm twisted behind his back. _(No, not like that Remus.)_ But he doesn’t do anything, just lets Virgil slap him in the face - it stings pretty hard, the emo is a _lot_ stronger than he looks - and climb back off, shooting him a glare and starting to pick up the popcorn, face still flushed beet red.

Roman just laughs.

_“Okay, I dare you to sniff a flower in front of someone and say it smells like sun-sine and happiness,”_

_“Ro-Bro! Rom-Com! Roli-Poli! You’re gonna ruin my reputation!”_

Things calm down, and then it reaches the point where Tadashi dies. It hurts, and Roman’s crying - completely silently, tears falling down his face, but still crying. Virgil and Logan are blinking rapidly, and Patton is full on _sobbing_ into his Pooh stuffie. Roman shifts, pulling his knees up to his chest so he can rest his chin on them. 

_“I don’t_ **_care_ ** _if you hate me, alright, I don’t care if we haven’t talked in years, I don’t care because we’re_ **_fucking twins_ ** _and if you die I’m not gonna_ **_have_ ** _one!”_

He sniffs wetly.

That’s the lowest point in the movie, for him, so as things get better he slowly pulls himself back out of his darker thoughts and starts smiling and laughing and poking fun at it again. He lets himself enjoy the way Logan’s trying really hard not to smile, the way Patton’s punning more than should be mentally possible, the way Virgil pretends not to like it but is just as emotionally invested in the story as he is. 

_“Well, this was fun~!”_

_“I’m here, aren’I?”_

Roman heads to the kitchen when the credits start rolling to make another batch of popcorn. He can see why Big Hero 6 is Logan’s favorite movie.

“Get me a bag of chips while you’re over there!” Virgil calls from the living room.

“Sure, sure, whatever emo!” Roman calls back, grabbing a bag of salt and vinegar chips from the pantry. _A perfect fit!_ He pulls the popcorn out of the microwave, pours it into the bowl, and carries both back to the living room. He tosses the bag of chips to Virgil and plops back down in his spot. 

“So, what should we watch next? Obviously something Disney - ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wait, what? Really? You're not - "


	12. Ten Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some Toxic Thinking? (very little)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that I need to start a bit of a time skip here, because otherwise it'll take way too long to get to the next big plot point...

“Ah, Roman, right on time,” Logan says as he lets him in his room. He’s got a smile on his face, which is weird but definitely not bad, and he looks Roman over. He must not find what he’s searching for, because his shoulders relax and he closes the door with a quiet click as he takes his seat just like he did on Thursday.

This time, however, Roman feels great! Apprehensive, definitely - his ideas this week were all thought up in one night, it’s not going to be smooth sailing - but he feels physically okay. Unlike before. 

“I wouldn’t  _ dream  _ of being late, my wonderful constellation~,” Roman purrs playfully, running his finger around the bedpost as he sits down, leaning back onto his hands. He takes a moment to breathe in the air, take in the smell of Logan’s room. It smells like a classroom, but not the kind of plain middle school classroom with boring desks and blank walls; the kind of classroom that belongs to the  _ fun  _ kind of teacher, with model airplanes strung up to the ceiling, posters on the walls, and a big globe in the corner. 

Logan’s room is a lot more like an office than an actual bedroom, but he does have a bed, a nightstand, and a wardrobe, so Roman supposes that it counts. 

“So, I read through your ideas yesterday, and I have some notes for you to review,” Logan says, and it’s the same phrase that he says at some point at every meeting -  _ I have some notes for you to review  _ \- that it’s almost an inside joke by now. Roman smiles as Logan hands him a small stack of printed out, stapled together papers with his ideas and dark blue pen in the margins.

He takes it and thumbs through the pages, scanning the notes. Immediately, he notices that there’s a lot more blue than usual. That’s good, though - Logan only takes the time to write notes for the ideas that he thinks can be worked with. He’s a little disappointed, though not surprised, that Logan marked an ‘x’ next to his “write a novel” idea, with the side note  _ “Good for shorts, but Thomas isn’t the best writer.”  _

As Roman looks through the packet, he finds that most of the notes are little revisions, just things that make his ideas more reasonable without taking the essence out of them. That’s not unusual, but… still. Roman still kind of expects to see little x’s all down the page, crossing out idea after idea, even though that’s never happened. Logan’s always preferred to just change, rework ideas, rather than brush them off entirely.

“I’m impressed,” Logan says, and Roman looks up, eyebrows immediately pulling together at the words he’s not quite sure he’s heard correctly. Logan offers him a comforting smile. “You pulled all this together in one night, and admittedly there are quite a few typos, but Roman - you did  _ well.”  _

He blinks. Frowns slightly. Glances away for a moment to make sure that they’re alone (even though he’s not sure who else would be in Logan’s room on a Saturday at one in the afternoon) and then right back to Logan’s deep blue eyes that are filled with nothing but honesty. 

“I did well?” he repeats dumbly.

“Yes, that is what I said, is it not?” Logan raises an eyebrow slightly, adjusting his glasses. Before, Roman might’ve said his tone is confused, a little pressing, but now he can recognize it for what it is - and that is Logan’s version of teasing. Usually. Sometimes the poor nerd really is confused, but Roman likes to think that he can tell the difference. 

Then he remembers what they’re talking about.

“Wait, what? Really? You’re not - ” Roman draws in a breath, mustering up a hesitant smile. “You’re not pulling my leg, here, are you? ‘Cause that’s not - that’s not funny.”

Logan shakes his head. 

“Oh… Well, um. Thanks! I’m… I’m glad,” he says, chancing a more genuine smile. Then he decides to change the subject and get back on topic. “So! Can you elaborate on your notes on that Let's Play? I’m not sure what you mean by ‘limited time frame’, do you mean we  _ should  _ have a limited time frame or that we already have one? Because we definitely don’t already have one, I thought.”

He leans in a little to take the packet back so he can see what Roman’s referring to, and he nods. “I mean that we should, because while Thomas does have a lot of dedicated fans, we have no idea how they’ll react to this format of video. We should go for a smaller section of time so that we can determine how similar videos will be received, and then in the future if he wants to and has time for a longer Let’s Play he’ll be able to - presuming, of course, that they do well.”

“Ah, see, that’s  _ smart!  _ Okay, it’ll suck having to play in such small increments, but I see what you’re getting at  _ mi Estrella~”  _ Roman nods, grinning. He takes the packet and scans down the first page. He understands those notes, they’re fairly simple fixes, just little filming suggestions and minor alterations. He turns the page. “Okay, so when you say ‘reorganize’ do you mean changing up the script?”

* * *

“Greetings Thomas!” Roman beams, throwing up his arms ecstatically as he rises up. He startles Thomas so badly that he falls off of his chair and bangs his knee on the floor, cussing loudly. Roman snickers, but stops himself mid-laugh. Thomas was just eating breakfast, nothing important, so Roman doesn’t feel as bad as he probably should, all things considered. 

“Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, Roman, thank you,” Thomas mutters, brushing himself off and turning to face him. He huffs, then smiles, and Roman is pleased to see that it’s very much genuine. It makes his chest feel all warm and makes him feel like his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He risks a glance down, and sure enough, both boots are solidly on the carpet. Speaking of the carpet, it should probably be cleaned soon, it looks a little more beige than usual.

“Okay! So, I have this idea, what if you and Camden start Kingdom Hearts 3 and film your first reactions! It’s Logan-approved, don’t worry your head off,” Roman gushes excitedly, glad to finally get  _ going,  _ moving and  _ doing  _ stuff. He’s bouncing on his heels, and he doesn’t bother trying to stop because he knows Thomas doesn’t mind. (What if he does? What if he’s just too nice to say it? What if he secretly hates it?) (Roman stops bouncing.) “What do you say?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot that came out!” Thomas squeals, smile growing, and he pulls out his phone. “I’m gonna see where I can get it, thanks Roman!”

“You’re welcome~!” he sings, sinking out and feeling  _ wonderful.  _ It always feels nice when someone appreciates an idea of his! 

* * *

“ - and then he turned  _ bright red  _ and spilled the popcorn all over himself,” Roman recalls, giggles bubbling up at the memory. Remus cackles at his retelling, but his hands are just as steady as before. Remus is rebandaging Roman’s arm, which is feeling a lot better but still looks pretty bad, in his messy, salty room.  _ (I’m using the word “salty” to describe a room - what is the world coming to? _ Roman bemoans.) 

“So,” he says, still giggling. “Did you do  _ your  _ dare yet?”

Remus groans. “Yesss, ugh. Never again, you hear me bitch? So Dee-Dee has this magnolia on his desk, and he was just doing his snake-work when I picked up the pot - and he was all pissy, telling me to put it down. Then I did the dare - ha, alliteration - and called it ‘sunshine and rainbows’ and put it back down and he looked at me like I was fucking  _ crazy _ and made me lay down  _ all day  _ so he could stuff chicken soup down my throat and play momma-snake. It was  _ awful.”  _

Roman snickers. “How’d you escape?”

Remus grins, finishing up the bandages and leaning in conspiratorially. “I had to wait until he was asleep, but like, he  _ basically  _ sleeps with one eye open because he wakes up at the slightest fucking sound, so I screamed  _ really  _ loudly and smashed up the couch with my morningstar and he woke up and that’s how I convinced him I got better!”

“Did you at least fix the couch afterwards?”

“Nope!”

“Of course.”

* * *

Patton’s in the kitchen when Roman comes down, intending to get something to eat. He doesn’t know what he wants, so he can’t summon anything, which of course means he just has to look in the fridge for ideas. 

Patton is wearing an apron that says “Pattoncake” on it in big bubbly blue letters. Roman takes a moment to look over what he’s making and finds that the resident father figure is trying his hand at soufflés. It doesn’t look like it’s coming along too well, the sauce is sticking to the sides a lot and it looks chunky.

“Would you like some help with that, Padre?” he offers, one eyebrow quirked and a smile playing on his lips.

The other side whirls around and beams. “Roman!” he exclaims happily, then looks back to his poor attempts and then back up, smile turning sheepish. “Yes please?”

Roman chuckles and takes the spoon from Patton’s hand and grabs the almond milk from the counter. “All it needs is a little more liquid, and then you can smooth it out and get rid of the stickiness.”

He may not be the best cook, but Roman definitely knows how to make a good dessert.

* * *

It’s been ten days since the courtroom, and Roman feels better than he’s been in years. He’s talking to his brother again, he doesn’t think Logan hates him usually, Patton doesn’t seem to resent him, Thomas is doing okayish, and his creativity is a little slumped but still going strong even if Thomas’ motivation is lacking these days. Virgil is the same as always, which isn’t unpleasant.

He doesn’t really like Deceit so much anymore, but that’s fine, he never really sees the snake-faced side anyways. 

He gets flashbacks to his… slip-up sometimes, but he got rid of that bathroom and avoids counting and it hasn’t happened in a couple days now. 

Things are okay. Roman is happy.

And as he cuddles his stuffies and curls up under his heavy blankets, Roman can’t help but hope that it’ll stay okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The commoner's head turns, and Roman winces. Their face -


	13. Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Minor Character Death (more like Background Character Death), Injuries, Repression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out everyone was right - I didn't even mean to this time! It just came out this way! :(
> 
> On the plus side, it's longer than usual...? So, I'm not sure if you've caught on, but I'm trying to skim a bit so that I can get to the next piece of real plot without taking seventy chapters -

Roman’s heading out on a multi-day quest. It’s been a while since his last, and he feels like now is a great time. Thomas doesn’t have much going on creatively speaking for the next week or so, and things have been going so well for the last three weeks that Roman finally feels like he can go and the mindscape won’t be drastically different when he returns. 

In preparation, he’s left a note under Logan’s door, saying: _My Dear Calculator Watch, I am not going to be here for about one to two weeks, for I am heading off on an adventure to restore Thomas’ motivation and refresh my creativity! Enclosed is also a list of ideas just in case Thomas needs any. I shall be back by the tenth, at latest! Until we meet again; I remain Prince Roman, Creativity._

Roman’s left a note on the coffee table in the living room as well. This one says: _My Friends, I am going on a quest and shall not return until the tenth, at latest. Don’t have too much fun without me, for I remain Prince Roman, Creativity._

He’s already told Remus that he’s leaving. Of course, his twin can just find him anytime, because they share the Imagination even if it’s large enough that they sometimes forget that fact. But they’re close now, and they meet up every couple days; Roman doesn’t want Remus to wonder where he’s gone and assume the worst, as he’s prone to do. With Remus’ level of constant intrusive thoughts, it’s not a surprise.

_“Hey, Trash Panda! I’m gonna be in the Imagination for the next couple weeks!”_

_“Alright! I’m gonna go prank Snakes now!”_

For himself, Roman has prepared well. He’s wearing his adventuring boots, his prince costume, his sword is sheathed at his waist, and he can just conjure food and summon anything he’s forgotten, so he’s ready to step into his ruby-colored portal. And that is what he does - he steps forward, letting the crystalline substance wash over him, and when he blinks the vermillion haze from his eyes he finds himself on the other side.

The first thing he notices is that it’s a town, full of multi-story houses and peaked roofs, lanterns and ribbons strung up in festivity. It’s a little late in the afternoon, and the air is filled with the crisp, slightly warmed scent of flowers and bread. It’s a town Roman made about three years back, one of his more rounded creations, where the people aren’t fully good or fully bad but have their own personalities, virtues and flaws. 

The second thing he notices is that the townspeople are scrambling away from the town square, screaming and looking for all the world like their life depends on it. Knowing the Imagination, it most likely does. 

Soon enough, as Roman draws his sword and falls into a fighting crouch, he sees what’s terrorizing them so badly.

It’s a creature with two snapping heads and two lashing tails, a pair of arching wings and two different sets of legs melded together. One golden-furred paw smashes into the May Day pole, sending it crashing down and ripping the ribbons up from the ground, and the manticore-chimera abandons it like a Christmas present’s torn up wrapping paper. Its scorpion tail is curled and arched dangerously, the barb shooting out and stabbing into someone’s back, ripping through their chest and pulling back out just as quickly, leaving the murdered body draining of blood on the plaza tiles.

Roman sucks in a sharp breath and rushes forward, pushing past a stumbling old man and then leaping aside as the manticore-chimera’s barb comes stabbing out. He ducks behind a stall table, finding baskets of crullers left both on and underneath, abandoned in the panic. He doesn’t stay for long, jumping forward and rolling out of the way of the manticore-chimera’s heavy, dangerous paw. 

He adjusts his grip on his sword and keeps running, eyes on the beast. He’s fought manticore-chimeras before, he remembers. He knows their weaknesses - under the lips in their scorpion tail’s exoskeleton, just behind the jaw, the eyes, their underbellies; he also knows their strengths, the _don’t do this unless you’re trying to die_ ’s. Don’t get hit with their tails. Don’t get bitten. Don’t get hit. It’s not safe to risk being hurt in any way, because all of their weapons are deadly; just evade, catch them off-guard, strike and back off before they can hit back.

The manticore-chimera’s jaw clamps around a commoner, letting their crutch clatter to the ground - they were just too slow, not fast enough, and that will inevitably be the last mistake they make.

The commoner’s head turns, and Roman winces. Their face - it’s pale, eyes wide, a nasty yellowing bruise on their cheekbone and mouth open. They’re hyperventilating, chest heaving, hands shaking so noticeably that Roman can see it even from this far away. The look they’re giving him is unmistakable - _“HELP ME!”_

He can’t say that he particularly enjoys this part of adventuring. But he doesn’t necessarily have full control of the Imagination - it takes his thoughts and runs wild with them, and sure, creating is easy; controlling those creations is anything but.

No, Roman can’t say he’s fond of this part as the monster’s teeth slide into place next to each other, as the commoner’s face twists in agony and a blood-curdling scream rips through the air, as severed limbs slap onto the ground. 

It’s not usually this… graphic, but he supposes that this is what he gets for spending every other day with the darker side of creativity. He doesn’t regret it, although he does wish that this isn’t happening. Obviously, he’s going to revive the fallen after he defeats this murderous beast, and they’ll go right back to their lives after his quest is over and done with. But it’s still not pleasant.

Roman sees an opening as the manticore-chimera turns, tails just a moment lagging, weak spot exposed and _right there -_ and he launches forward. He tightens his grip on his sword, raises it, angles it as he crouches and pushes off, jumping up to reach the place where the fur meets the snake tail. His sword sinks in, and as soon as it does he tugs it back out and sprints out of reach of the raging manticore-chimera again.

As the adrenaline and the pounding of his heart finally seem to start working together, he finds his rhythm. The rest of the world blurs out - it’s just him and the monster. It slams into the house he’d been hiding by, snapping timbers and breaking plaster, and it snarls and hisses at the same time as it roughly shakes off the debris and turns to him. Roman hurries out of the trajectory of its paw and ducks around, slashing a bright red line into the inside of its leg and darting back away.

Its snake tail launches towards him, jaws wide and fangs bared, and he swings, neatly chopping the head off and making the beast yowl in pain and fury.

Roman just focuses on staying out of the way for the next series of attacks, ducking away and twisting and scrambling out from underneath. It roars angrily, and Roman sees his next opportunity, sinking his blade in hilt-deep into the beast’s jugular vein. It may be made-up, imaginary, an amalgamation of two different fusions of monsters, but it still follows _some_ basic anatomy. 

* * *

The tavern is quiet. There are only a few others - a hooded woman in the corner, a young man at the counter, a dark-skinned barista named Alex. And him, of course. Roman knows why they’re all so quiet; he’d be quiet, too, if his holiday was interrupted by a dangerous monster that took several lives and made a mess of the central plaza.

Still, he wishes that they’d make _some_ noise. It’s unsettling, the silence. It makes his skin crawl and his thoughts louder. 

**This is your fault,** they say. **You did this.**

He argues that he didn’t mean to. He didn’t make the manticore-chimera attack, he didn’t tell it to kill anyone. 

**But you made it,** his thoughts shoot back.

 _I don’t have full control over my imagination!_ Roman pleads.

**And whose fault is that?**

Roman puts his head in his hands and closes his eyes. He doesn’t have an answer to that.

Someone sits down next to him. He doesn’t look up, and they don’t say anything. Time passes, and eventually they speak up, voice gravelly and light. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” For a moment, Roman startles, wondering how they know he’s feeling guilty, how they know that he created this. How they can possibly know that he’s not just the hero, Prince Roman, just as much a part of their world as they. But then they continue softly, “You couldn’t have predicted this. Things like this have been happening a lot all over the kingdom for a while now. Bandit raids, monster attacks, wild beasts, assassinations… it was… only a matter of time before it was us.”

He’s a little surprised by that. His kingdom likes to mirror his mental state, making his dark creations angry when he’s angry and his light ones happy when he’s happy. His positive emotions only affect his positive creations, and his negative ones only affect his negative creations, as it goes. But he feels… good, for the first time in a long while. He doesn’t think that he’s secretly angry and violent somewhere in all that… 

Well, he amends, he’s a little angry at Deceit for manipulating him, a little on edge the closer they get to the wedding day. A little… knotted up and nauseated, by the doubts and insecurities playing in the back of his mind. But surely he’s not… _so_ upset in the corners of his consciousness that it’s affecting his kingdom so much? 

He doesn’t know. He just… he doesn’t know. 

That night, laying on a bed in a room the tavern keeper offered him for his aid, Roman decides what his quest will be. He’s going to stop as many of the monsters he can, and try to get his worst feelings out in the process.

* * *

Roman steps out of his portal. Well, more like stumbles; he trips and falls to his hands and knees, pushing out painful breaths and gasping for more. The portal shrinks to nothing with a _shhhk_ and he can still feel the stifling air on the hairs on the back of his neck. He can almost hear the shouts of joy ringing in the back of his mind.

He’s hot and cold. Fingertips cold, toes cold, nose and ears cold - side burning, shoulder stinging, cheek hot and slick, shin on _fire._ He’s bleeding, and yet he’s smiling, teeth somewhat pink from blood but it’s a smile nonetheless. 

* * *

“Jeez _fuck,_ bro, what’d you _do_ to yourself!?” Remus shrieks, pale face drained of whatever color was left, eyes wide and flashing in anger and fear. 

Roman looks down at himself. He’s covered in bandages, and his smaller cuts have band-aids over them. His bruises are out in the open, purple and yellow and green and not pretty at _all._ Some of his bandages are already starting to bleed through, it looks like he needs to change them. Still, he can’t see why Remus is so upset - oh, right. He knows. Roman looks up and shakes his head, brows furrowing in earnest. “I promise I didn’t mean to! I haven’t - I haven’t done it on purpose in months, except for… you know. I promise.”

Remus’ eyes narrow and he stays unsettlingly quiet for another long moment, scrutinizing him carefully. Then, slowly, he turns his head to the side a little, eyes fixed on him, and nods cautiously. “You better not.”

His lip twitches up into a smile, fondness bubbling up inside of him. 

“Now let me change those bandages, you’re gonna get blood all over the floor and Dee _hates_ cleaning up blood stains!” Remus orders, grabbing his (thankfully uninjured) wrist and pulling him into his room. 

Roman laughs and plops down on Remus’ bed while his brother summons his massive first-aid kit. He has to admit, this is… a lot better than just dealing with it on his own. Even if Remus can’t really do anything that he can’t already do himself when it comes to treating injuries - except reaching areas Roman can’t reach and doing two-hands-required jobs on his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So, you want me - me! - to, what - "


	14. Of Birthdays and Brainstorms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Yelling, Arson, Toxic Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay - sorry for this one-
> 
> I want to make it clear that the lights aren't entirely unsympathetic, and they do get better... eventually...

It’s his birthday. 

He knows it’s his birthday because when he goes to open up his laptop, he sees the date, and it screams out at him with the familiar _JUNE 4TH_ that announces the arbitrary date he chose to represent the anniversary of the beginning of his existence. _Wow, Logan would be proud of that one,_ he thinks with a huff of laughter.

He also knows it’s his birthday because the moment he gets out of bed a pair of ice-cold hands grab his ankles and send him careening to the floor, and when he catches himself and rips his feet away from Remus’ grip his brother jumps out and shrieks gleefully, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRO! Let’s go commit arson and slaughter zombies!”

Roman snickers, pushing himself up to his feet and combing his hair with his fingers to tame it down a little. “I don’t know about the zombies, but I suppose we could burn a house down. As long as it’s unoccupied! And doesn’t belong to anyone!”

Remus blows a raspberry and rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’re no fun. Fiiine, let’s go burn down an abandoned house!”

He snaps, and before Roman can process what’s going on, Remus pulls him through the acid green portal and out into a high desert landscape with a two story abandoned shack as the only building in sight.

Remus summons two containers of gasoline and two matchboxes, grinning with suddenly sharp teeth and a wicked gleam of mischief and manic excitement in his eyes. Roman accepts them and laughs. What is he doing? He must be insane. He’s supposed to be bursting into the commons and declaring his enthusiasm for his birthday, not disappearing into Remus’ side of the Imagination without any notice.

Well. It’s his birthday, he’s pretty sure he’s allowed to be a little bit selfish on his birthday.

He starts towards the shack, uncapping the gasoline and starting to pour it. It’s pretty heavy, and the gasoline pours unevenly, glugging out rather than streaming like water. At first he just dumps it at the bottom of the wall, but then he gets a little creative and starts splattering it a little higher. There’s something cathartic about this, he’s not sure what, but it makes him smile and when Remus shouts a question about what would happen if he drank gasoline and ran through fire he bursts into laughter.

* * *

“We were _worried!_ Roman, you can’t just disappear like that!” Patton shouts, eyes filled with tears and bottom lip trembling. 

He messed up. He really messed up. He was gone for two days, too caught up in Remus’ excitement and the adrenaline from committing innocent crimes to think to come back and let everyone know that he’s okay. Every year, unfailingly, Roman comes down and spends his birthday with the other sides - even if he doesn’t want to - except for this one.

“I thought you might’ve died or something,” Virgil snaps. Roman can hear the remnants of panic in the way he sucks in air and taps furiously on his arm and he feels even worse. “I thought you hated us and that we messed up somewhere or maybe - and you were just, what, playing in the Imagination? You didn’t even think to tell us?”

Roman flinches, shrinking in on himself. The yelling and the anger and the worry is making him feel guilty and little and _bad._

“M’ sorry,” he whispers.

Patton’s expression softens, and Virgil hunches his shoulders guiltily. “It’s alright,” Patton says, taking a deep breath and slowly reaching out to envelop him in a hug. (It’s so warm, but it rubs weirdly, he can’t help but long for Remus and his tight, nearly bone-crushing hugs and his burning warmth.) “I’m sorry for yelling kiddo, I just didn’t know where you were and I know you can lose track of time, but I… I forgot.”

“It-” he swallows, makes his voice a little more calm and normal. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to talk. “It’s alright,” he echoes. “I truly didn’t mean to worry you.”

Maybe if Logan were here it’d be easier for Roman to feel safe. But Logan’s in his room, and he’s alone with Patton and Virgil, and he thinks that maybe the yelling is over but he’s not sure and if Logan were here there wouldn’t be too much. (If Remus were here none of them would be able to, he thinks, but he doesn’t really want to let his brother kill his… friends? If Logan is his friend, are the other two? No, that’s stupid.)

“Yeah… sorry for yelling, or whatever. You’re cool, I just overreact a lot,” Virgil mumbles, not making eye contact. The weird feeling in his chest eases a little. Patton pulls away, lingering for only a moment longer before stepping back and giving him a hesitant smile. 

Roman feels a little better. He’s… he likes knowing that they were worried, that they care enough to notice when he’s gone. Even if they’re not the best at showing it. He smiles a little. “So… do you think we can maybe do a… belated celebration? Nothing too big! Just… like a movie night or something.”

“Why not,” “Absolutely!” 

* * *

Roman slams his head on his desk. _Come - on - brain - WORK -_

It doesn’t work, predictably, so he heaves a sigh and leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He can’t come up with anything. It’s Tuesday, and he has nothing. No ideas. It’s… not often that he can’t even come up with a _stupid_ idea, but when it does it really fu-flipping sucks. 

Last week, he got into an argument with Logan about Thomas skipping lunch to work on one of his ideas. It… wasn’t the worst fight they’ve had, granted, but… it’s the first they’ve had since… the whole courtroom thing. Honestly, Roman was kind of thinking that maybe they’d reached an understanding and that maybe Logan would be more willing to hear him out, but really, he should’ve known better.

To be fair, he admits to himself, his method of covering up his hurt with insults and scoffing probably isn’t the best when he’s trying to improve his relationships. Remus seems to enjoy their banter and doesn’t take things personally, so that helps there, but Roman doesn’t have practice with anyone who doesn’t know that he tries, really, _really_ tries, sometimes to the point of hurting himself. Not on purpose, not anymore - not physically.

The point is, he can’t tell Logan that he has nothing. He can’t… can’t ask to reschedule after _already_ messing it up. Logan will hate him, he’s sure of it, and when he’s _already_ irritated with him he really doesn’t need any more reasons to be. If he wants to keep any chance of saving their friendship, Roman needs to follow Logan’s example and keep on schedule, let the heat die down so he can make apology tarts or something.

But he just - can’t - _do_ \- it. 

Wait. He sits up. Thomas has two creativities, and what better way to spark his creativity than someone else’s? Without much further deliberation, Roman nods decisively and calls out, “Hey Remus!”

His brother pops up right in front of him, leaning his elbow on Roman’s desk and his head on his fist. “Hey~” he greets with a sultry tone, wiggling the fingers on his free hand at Roman. “What’s up geek?”

Roman rolls his eyes and punches Remus’ shoulder, leaning back and grinning helplessly in anticipation. “Okay, okay, so I’ve got creative block-” “Oof, that shit sucks, and not in the fun way,” “Pfff- gross, Rem! Anyway, can you just, I don’t know, brainstorm with me?”

Remus blinks, one eye at a time. 

“What?”

“You heard me,” he replies, raising an eyebrow. “Brainstorm?”

“Wait, let me get this straight. Which is weird for all of us because we’re all very much gay! So, you want me - me! - to, what - help you - with an idea that’s going gay to Thomas?” Remus asks incredulously, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“...Yeah?” Roman replies. He shifts uncomfortably. To be honest, he’s beginning to feel a little awkward. Does Remus not want to help him? Is he overstepping? Is he just making this weird? (What if he’s ruining everything and Remus will leave and he’ll be alone again? He really doesn’t want to be alone again…) “You don’t - you don’t _have_ to, if you don’t want to…”

“NO!” Remus screeches, jumping up and giving him a wide-eyed, frantic look. “YES! I wanna help you! Ew, gross, I never want to say that again - I wanna do it, alright! Don’t go changing your mind on me fucker! If you wanna work with me you gotta _commit~!”_

“Of course,” he says before he fully wraps his head around Remus’ outburst. Then, “Wait, you really want to?”

“Duh,” Remus says, squinting as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. The corners of Roman’s lips lift into a smile, and then it morphs into a bright grin. 

_“Hey, Remus, what if you revealed yourself to Thomas?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Just tell me. Blurt it out if it’ll be easier! Like ripping -"


	15. Dark Creativity (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Toxic Behaviors, Mild Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how long it took to take this many notes on DWIT? Five hours. And this is only the first half!
> 
> (I may go back and edit this chapter in the future.)

“Uh oh! Here comes the noblest Roman of them all! What up, plebs?”

Roman grins. He’s a little surprised to find Logan, Virgil, and Patton all here as well, but that just means that Thomas is having another one of his dilemmas. Granted, his last dilemma ended in crushing Roman’s hopes and dreams, but surely this one is going to be better! Besides, Remus said that the next time Thomas has a big problem, he’s going to be there, and Roman definitely wants to be there for Remus’ big reveal.

“Oh, hey Roman! We were just talking about something else!” Patton says, smiling and looking at the other two before turning to him. 

“Mm, what?” Roman asks. Something else? Are they excluding him? What is going on? They haven’t - they haven’t done _this_ before.

“Y- uh, What!? Nothing else!” Patton fumbles, eyes widening in panic. “There’s nothin’ else! Uh, we were just talking about something - and never _anything else._ ” He looks to Virgil and gives him a thumbs-up, whispering, _“Is that good?”_

“Wait, are you all seriously not gonna let me in on what’s going on here?” he asks incredulously, laughing a little to try and cover up the hurt. This is all going so fast, and he doesn’t know why they won’t just tell him what the problem is! He can _help_ if they just _tell_ him. Were they talking about _him?_ Is that why they’re not telling him?

“Patton already said it, we were talking about… something,” Thomas says dismissively. That _hurts,_ both literally and figuratively, and Roman doesn’t _understand._

“Singing’ to myself~ ‘Cause I’m not un-comfortable at all~” Patton sings quietly.

Roman scoffs, fumbling for something to say that won’t betray how much it hurts to know that he’s being deliberately excluded. Sure, he spent the night in the Imagination, stargazing to calm his thoughts down. Sure, he wasn’t listening to Thomas’ thoughts. But that’s just because he was busy! That’s no reason to exclude him! “Secrets, secrets, are no fun, tell me now or else we’re _done!”_

“Look, you don’t want to know.” Thomas says cryptically, and Virgil finishes even _more_ cryptically, “Unless you wanna be _deeply troubled.”_

“I do! Mystery _loves_ company.” Roman argues.

“N- It’s _misery_ loves company,” Virgil corrects.

“Not for me, it’s not!” Roman’s voice raises to cover up the tremor of uncertainty. “I am not feeling any love _or_ misery, because it’s a mystery for _me_ alone! I have yet to receive _my invite_ to the pity party. Thomas, come on! You can’t have a _bawl_ without a _prince!”_

“Just- leave it alone, Roman,” his host pleads.

_“Seriously.”_ Virgil reiterates. 

“Agh, I can’t believe you’re making me do this!” Roman huffs. He throws up his arm, summoning the one person he hopes will tell him what’s happening. 

“What do you need?” Logan says as soon as he rises up, sounding a little snappish and irritated, just like everyone else. Roman tries not to take it personally. “Logan! Do you know why everyone is so… Moody B. Moans?”

“Oh, goodness… are they _still_ disconcerted?” the nerd asks, clearly disbelieving and annoyed.

_“That’s_ putting it a little lightly, Logan.” Virgil snaps.

“Or, your reaction is a little too extreme,” Logan shoots back, and Roman’s never felt more lost.

“Well, that’s easy for you to say,” Patton says, and Roman’s eyebrows raise. Patton? Saying something like _that?_

Logan frowns in confusion. “Why wouldn’t it have been easy to say? It was an eight word sentence, that’s… not exactly laborious.”

“What he means,” Virgil huffs in annoyance. “Is that you’re not a great judge of what _is_ and _isn’t_ an overreaction. _Your_ most extreme reaction is an eyebrow raise.”

“FALSEHOOD!” Logan screams, throwing up an arm to point at the emo. Roman flinches, and Virgil snaps twice by his ear to check if they still work. “I stand corrected.”

“There’s the one for today.” Patton says awkwardly.

“Logan!” Roman claps, trying to get the nerd’s attention again before he gets even more conflicting messages. “Put on your blinders, or in this case take off your glasses-” he laughs, why is this so funny? It’s such a dumb joke - 

“What are you tal- what’re you talking- what are you talking about?” Logan asks, squinting cynically.

“Look, I barely got any sleep. That’s the best joke my creativity’s got.” Thomas says, and doesn’t that hurt?

“But seriously, ignore _them_ for the time being and explain to me _what_ is going on here!” Roman demands, hurt seeping into his voice. At least Logan will tell him what’s going on, right?

“Well, last night,” Logan starts, adjusting his glasses, and Roman relaxes a little knowing that he’s about to find out what’s happening. “Thomas struggled to fall asleep due to persistent, troubling thoughts about-”

“Shut up or I will shut you up!” Virgil hisses, and Thomas shouts, “Whoa whoa whoa whoa _whoa!”_ while Patton sings, “Hey, now, stop what you are saying~”

“Whoa, you guys are acting fishier than the kraken’s crack.” Roman laughs, trying to cover up how much this blatant dismissal stings. Patton wrinkles his nose in disgust at his metaphor.

“Alright, so I’m acting fishy, so sushi- I mean, sue me.” Virgil says, wincing at his pun.

“Don’t act like that was an accident,” Roman says, feeling a small flicker of genuine amusement.

“Everybody, Virgil. Let’s give it up for the purp-man,” Thomas claps, blinking sleepily.

“Just tell me. Blurt it out if it’ll be easier! Like ripping - um, the sword from the stone!” Roman demands, unsheathing his sword and holding it up. It’s comforting, to have it in his grip, even though he’s obviously not going to use it. It’s just… habit, he supposes. Makes him feel safe.

“That was… canonically not easy,” Thomas squints.

“Yes, only Arthur was able to remove the sword,” Logan tells him, and _yes,_ he already knew that it wasn’t his best metaphor!

“May the odds be never in our favor,” Patton laughs deprecatingly.

“But this isn’t the sword in the anvil,” Logan says. “You mean the sword in the stone?” Virgil corrects, eyebrow raised. The nerd is unaffected. “Why don’t you read the book and see if you still need to correct me.”

“Ooh! ...Sorry…” Thomas shakes his head.

“I guess Disney was more faithful than we all thought!” Roman says, trying to distract the others so that Logan can maybe have a chance of telling him.

“What I mean is that talking about this shouldn’t be as impossible as liberating the sword from its ferric prison.” Logan says. _Finally!_ “I don’t understand why we must prohibit any and all discussion about the intrusi-”

“Please stop, seriously!-” “I’m gonna prohibit your breathing if you keep this up,” “- I really don’t wanna think about it.” Thomas and Virgil cut Logan off, and Roman can’t help but feel sympathy for his poor logical counterpart. Patton speaks up, softly, yet firmly. “You know exactly why we’re not talking about it.”

“But he’s -” Logan says, gesturing towards Roman. He can’t help but feel glad that at least someone is considering his feelings here.

“Logan, if you continue to push this… we’re gonna end up in really _dangerous territory,”_ Virgil warns. More like _threatens,_ actually. Roman shifts his weight away from the emo.

“Push… what, exactly?” Logan asks, tired.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t condone any more of _that_ kind of thinking!” Patton interrupts, “Please! Just...”

“Just- listen to _us_ this time,” Virgil says. Logan sighs, and the dark knightmare takes a deep breath. “We’re going to talk about something else now, okay? Patton, what’re we talking about?”

“Uh, 2005’s ‘Just Like Heaven’ starring Mark Ruffalo and Reese Witherspoon?” the moral side tries, holding up the movie.

“...Sure.” Virgil agrees with a sigh.

“Ugh! Great flick.” Thomas says, and Roman feels a pinch on his shoulder from a new bruise coming in. “I’m really out of it…”

“The very same ‘Just Like Heaven’ that won the Teen Choice award for best chick flick!?” he asks excitedly, thoughts latching onto the only thing that makes sense now. 

“You Ruffal-know it!” Patton agrees enthusiastically.

“Were there any other ‘Just like Heaven’ films released in 2005 starring Mark Ruffalo and Reese Witherspoon?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Heh. If they got married then he’d be Mark With-his-spoon,” he laughs a little. 

“Am I delirious or is this the funniest video I’ve ever made?”

“That’s ridiculous, Roman! Have you ever heard of what’s mine is yours? They’d be Mr. and Mrs. With- _their_ -spoon,” Patton corrects with a sly smile.

“Patton, that was my joke! You hijacked my joke! You hi-joked!” Roman complains loudly.

“You know what I never got about that movie?” Virgil asks rhetorically. Roman decides to ignore that part and guesses, “Why it won best chick flick? I love ‘Just Like Heaven’ and I’m not a chick!”

“Of course you’re not a chick.” Logan nods firmly. “You’re a metaphysical human being, a chick is a newly-hatched bird.”

“No- _How_ is she a ghost if she’s not dead?” Virgil asks, changing the subject back.

Logan answers, “Perhaps she was accidentally and unknowingly astral projecting?” 

“Ooh, or maybe it was an out-of-body experience!” Patton says.

“I thought astral projecting _was_ an out-of-body experience?” Roman asks. This is all going too quickly, he’s still reeling from the sudden change in subject. Still, he has to just do his best - just, just follow along and maybe eventually they’ll tell him.

“I don’t know! I’m just glad the movie had a happy ending.” Patton replies, then leans forward as though about to divulge a secret. _“That_ is what makes good cinema.” 

“So there wasn’t really a ghost? Talk about ghost baiting.” Virgil huffs.

“Of course she wasn’t a ghost, ghosts are evil!” Roman responds, then amends when his mind goes to Moana, “Except for Moana’s grandmother,”

“Well, there’s one thing I know - Reese Witherspoon isn’t _evil…”_ Patton whispers the last word as though it’s a curse word, and who knows? Maybe it is in his mind. Roman doesn’t have the time to question things!

“I resent that.” Virgil scoffs. “Ghosts aren’t evil. They just scare people because you never know when they’re going to **SHOW UP** \- ”

“Okay, okay! I take back what I said about ghosts!” Roman holds up his hands in surrender. He didn’t think Virgil was so defensive of ghosts, but maybe it’s the fact that Roman’s generalizing again. He can’t help it, he just does that when he’s overwhelmed, it’s not like he _mea-_ suddenly, the world flashes white, his head explodes with pain, and he drops like a stone in water.

His mind says _Remus_ as everything swims out into inky darkness.

* * *

_If you really wanna challenge your viewership!_

_Then you need to stop limiting me-_

Roman’s thoughts think the words before his brother sings them. They wrote this song together. They planned this out.

_It isn’t you, these thoughts you’re thinking,_ Patton tries.

Most of it.

_People don’t like me much, Thomas_

_But that’s only just ‘cause I’m honest_

But that’s why Roman likes him. Even if Remus just knocked him out, which was not in the plan.

_Good and bad is all made up nonsense~_

Roman pushes himself to his feet with some difficulty and glares at Remus, just in time for his line. “Bro, I’m gonna whip your butt!”

“Do you promise~?” Remus asks, grinning, and he has to stop himself from smiling back even though Remus flicks his head with his _very large_ fingers and he’s knocked back to the floor. It’s not hard enough to fully knock him out this time, which he takes as Remus’ apology for before, but he decides to stay down just so he won’t throw up from his spinning thoughts.

And… maybe because he’s feeling too… small, and vulnerable, to face the others right now.

It’s okay, he tells himself quietly. It’s all going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do- do none of them -


	16. Dark Creativity (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Toxic Behaviors, Toxic Thinking, Losing Control, Small Flashback, Suicidal Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of my story I'm going to ignore what Roman says while unconscious in the actual DWIT- 
> 
> Anyway, here's a chapter as long as two chapters to make up for being a few hours later than usual to update!

Roman doesn’t register most of the conversation going on above him, if he’s being honest. He feels a bit light-headed. He’s pretty sure they’re talking about him, though. How long has he been down? Ten minutes? An hour? He can’t keep track of time _normally,_ what makes him think that he’s going to be able to when he’s barely conscious?

 _“But either way, you are_ **_not_ ** _Creativity!”_

_“Yeah! That’s the brave, handsome, unbeatable Roman!”_

He hums in distant reply. He feels a slightly cold, slightly wet thing brush his fingers, and he moves them, just a little, brushing it back in reassurance. After it vanishes, he realizes that it was one of Remus’ tentacles, going to make sure that he’s okay. He wonders why none of the others are trying to make sure he’s okay… his head hurts, and his neck is sore, they don’t know if he’s alright but… they’re not doing anything.

_“Scary…”_

He doesn’t think that the others are very happy. He knows they aren’t. They can’t be. Remus must’ve done something to get them all worried, and they went through so much trouble to try and keep that from him… Why didn’t they want to tell him?

Roman’s thoughts drift away for a while. He’s not sure why. He doesn’t think he has the capability of focusing enough to think about that right now. 

_“Why are you defending him?”_

...Could they have known? Do they know? Were they keeping him from knowing about his brother’s actions because they know that he’d defend him? Do - do none of them - do they all hate Remus that much? Is Remus… is he that bad? 

_“DECEIT - SHOW YOURSELF!”_

His heart thrums in fear. Is Deceit here? Is that another part of their plan that his brother changed? Does - doesn’t Remus care about their plan? Why is he letting Deceit here when he knows that Roman… that he… 

_“It’s actually me.”_

Oh… okay… okay. Deceit _isn’t_ here, then?

Okay.

Patton says something, but he doesn’t process the muffled, distorted words until a moment later. 

_“Yeah! Unlike a certain… potty-mouth in this room, imagination is_ **_good_ ** _!”_

 **P A T T O N I S M O R AL IT Y A ND MORALITY IS** **_NEVER WRONG_ ** the voice in the back his mind screams while the rest flinches back. **Morality says imagination is good. Imagination is good. Morality says Remus is bad. Remus is bad. You can’t be good if you’re with Remus and if you’re not good you CAN’T BE IMAGINATION.**

 _“Why would I even have_ **_two_ ** _creativities anyway?”_

_“Why isn’t Roman all encompassing?”_

_…_

_“...welcome…”_

_“...or forbidden.”_

_No, no, Remus is GOOD, Remus is good, Remus isn’t bad, PATTON DOESN’T HAVE ALL THE INFORMATION REMUS IS_ **_GOOD -_ **

_“The embodiment of ‘Bad Imagination’.”_

_“But are they opinions that matter?”_

_“Wow! I h-hate him, I hate him.”_

Roman wants to scream, to cry, to stand up and unsheathe his sword and defend his brother to his dying breath because _Remus was the one making sure he didn’t_ **_take his last_ ** _while everyone else was_ **_yelling_ ** _at him!_

If he could, he’d be shouting, “STOP IT, STOP IT, REMUS IS GOOD!”

If he could, he’d be hugging his brother so tightly that he could forget about the way his… the way they’re trying to keep him away from him. Why they’ve _always_ tried to keep him away from him.

If he could - 

But he can’t. He tries, but he can’t, and the most he can do is pull his eyelids open and give Remus a look of pleading - _please, please, don’t believe them I’m sorry I’m sorry I made you do this you’re not bad you’re GOOD I promise I’m sorry -_ and Remus nods a little, giving him a little side grin and flicking his fingers a little to brush it off. _I’m okay,_ he’s saying. _I don’t care, this is fun!_

Roman wants to question that - _are you sure? -_ but his eyes fall closed again and he just focuses on breathing for now. _In… and out… it’s going to be okay._

 **_“What_ ** _is your_ **_deal!”_ **

_“What is_ **_my_ ** _deal? Uh, bitch, what is_ **_your_ ** _deal? I’m_ **_your_ ** _Creativity. What does_ **_that_ ** _say about_ **_you_ ** _?”_

They don’t like Remus. They say they like Roman… but they… but they don’t, he knows that. So why - why are they lying? 

**They’re lying because they’re too nice to say it in front of you,** the voice in his mind hisses.

 _But that doesn’t make sense. They’re saying they hate Remus to his face, why don’t they - why don’t they say it to mine, too?_ Roman wonders, confused and hurting.

 **You’re fragile,** the voice mocks. **Remus can take it. But you? If they say that to you, they know you’ll break. You’ll slit your wrists, cut them open, and they need your function so they can’t let that happen no matter how much they want to. No matter how much you SHOULD.**

 _Oh,_ Roman sobs. Well, in his thoughts he sobs… he doesn’t dare let it escape.

_“But there’s definitely something wrong with him. And unfortunately, he’s not the naturally good person that you wish he was, Patton.”_

_“But - but Thomas_ **_always_ ** _tries to put others before himself, we’ve all seen it!”_

 _“Yeah, he can_ **_act_ ** _like a good person, just like Deceit can act like you. We’ve also seen that… doing what he thinks is right can… be pretty difficult for him.”_

The courtroom. The callback, the _wedding,_ Virgil is talking about _him._ It’s his fault that Thomas even _considered_ going to the callback instead of the wedding, _he’s_ the reason Thomas isn’t a naturally good person, it’s _him, he’s_ the bad one, isn’t he!? It’s all him, it’s always him, it’s _always his fault -_

He should’ve known sooner.

He’s the Ego, isn’t he? Sure, he’s Creativity. But he’s also the ego, he’s also the pride, he’s also the self-esteem, the self-worth, he’s the hopes and dreams! Hell, he’s practically the _embodiment_ of selfishness.

Patton is Morality. (Morality is never wrong.) He’s the heart. He’s the empathy. He’s the nostalgia, the emotions, he’s _Morality_ and _Morality is never wrong._ Patton’s the embodiment of selflessness.

And as he knows - _very well,_ from the fateful day in the courtroom - selflessness will _always_ win over selfishness.

~~_(One two three four and without hesitation he digs into his skin and slices - )_ ~~

Morality is never wrong.

Selfishness is bad.

He’s…

And he’s the selfishness.

No, _no,_ Roman doesn’t want to be bad - he _can’t_ be bad! He can’t be, he just _can’t,_ he’s the prince, okay, he’s the hero, he’s good, he’s Passion and Dreams and Creativity he just has to - he just has to get rid of the bad parts! Right! _RIGHT!?_

 _“This is not about me wanting to be listened to. You all, are not listening to_ **_Thomas._ ** _What he’s saying is worth noting.”_

Right. Okay! Okay.

_“But what if he’s lying?”_

_In and out, Roman, in and out…_

_“I can assure you, he’s not. You’re just para- expressing an unhealthy amount of concern. Thank you for being on guard. But for now, you must listen.”_

_“You have to believe me, Virge. Patton. I am not_ **_at all_ ** _enticed by_ **_anything_ ** _the Duke is saying; I do not identify with anything about him!”_

Here’s the anger again.

_“Dress me up however you want, Thomas. I can be covert if you’d like!”_

His lips twitch upwards.

 _“Psychologist Dr Norman Epstein once said ‘If a thought like that pops into your head, but you’re not bothered by it at all,_ **_that_ ** _could be a problem.’ Does Thomas seem bothered to you?”_

_“He does…”_

Wait. Wait, wait, no- is Logan saying that if Thomas wants to be a good person he has to be bothered by Remus? Is he saying that - that Remus can _never_ be _good_ because if Thomas thinks he is that makes him a bad person? (Does that make Roman a bad person? No, no, no, Remus is _good,_ he has to remember that, _Remus is good.)_

 _“Furthermore, Jeffrey Dahmer went on to murder innocent people. Say, how many people have_ **_you_ ** _murdered, Thomas?”_

Okay. Okay, it feels like things are calming down a little. Everyone still sounds on edge, but a lot more… tired. Quiet. 

Roman missed the quiet. 

He lets himself drift for now. He’s… he’s exhausted. He has… so much to think about, but he doesn’t want to think at all. (He just wants a hug.)

When he eventually drifts back to himself enough to hear what’s going on, he hears Remus talking.

“- just call me by my name; _Remus.”_

Roman can feel the confusion and tension in the room. He doesn’t like it.

“You…” Thomas starts. “You told me? Right off the bat? Just… like that?”

“Of course I did, Dr Seuss!” Remus replies, and Roman grins a little. If he could, he’d be laughing. He has to admit it’s funny. _“I_ would never hide anything from you!”

“The truth is, _Remus,_ you don’t get to me in the slightest,” Logan says. Roman would be proud, if it weren’t his brother Logan’s arguing against. Patton whispers _wow_ very quietly, and he wonders what’s happening. Not like they’d tell him, he thinks bitterly. (Stop it, stop being selfish.) “Object impermanence renders you… pretty unintimidating.”

Remus grunts, and alarms go off in Roman’s head. He immediately wants to get up, see what happened, make sure Remus is okay because that sounded like he’d been _hit_ and that is _not_ okay. But when he tries, he just falls back down, too weak to move. No one notices his efforts, except for Remus, with the small tap from a tentacle that immediately vanishes after touching him.

“What’s so frightening about something with no real world impact?”

“Oh shut _up,_ Nerdy Wolverine!”

“How ‘bout _you_ shut up?” Roman mumbles teasingly, then sucks in a quiet breath, surprised to hear his own voice. Remus cackles, and then there’s a _thud,_ and someone screams. 

“YOU KILLED HIM!”

“He _does_ make an impact!”

“Does he?” Logan asks.

_Yes._

“Yeah, I would’ve gotten a _full night’s sleep_ if it weren’t for him!”

“Hm… Lack of sleep can negatively affect your memory, it weakens your immune system, and increases your risk of heart disease. And that’s only _some_ of the potential side effects.”

Roman tunes out of the conversation. 

Have any of them mentioned him? Do they even care? Not even Logan has checked to see if he’s okay. Remus, he can understand - his brother gets a little… manic, sometimes, especially when he’s excited. It’s hard for him to contain himself. And he _has_ checked, with his tentacles, and that’s more than what the others have done for him. (He also saved his life, which is more than what the others will ever do for him.)

 _Stop it, you’re being selfish,_ he tells himself. _They have more important things to worry about._

Then Remus _screeches,_ like a demonic _banshee,_ and the lights flicker and Roman startles, falling back to the ground with a groan that goes unheard. There’s a moment of silence, and then Remus starts laughing. “My devious plan was a success! You were all _momentarily_ distracted!”

Roman snickers silently to himself. _There’s the Remus I know and love._

He doesn’t pay attention to the following discussion, but suddenly Remus is _gone,_ and he feels his heart jump to his throat as his eyes sting with sudden tears. _Where is he where is he - please I don’ wanna be alone - don’ leave me alone WHERE IS HE-_

“NAILS ON A CHALKBOARD!” Remus screams, and everyone screams, and he’s back, and Roman is still tense because he doesn’t know if he’s gonna fucking _leave_ him again and maybe if he braces for it then it won’t hurt so bad.

Who’s he kidding? He’s like a clingy _baby,_ he’ll cry whenever his older b- whenever his twin leaves him with strangers. Strangers? Wait, he knows them - why doesn’t he feel - why doesn’t he feel safe being alone around them? (Because Remus is the only one who cares about him. Not even Logan cares enough to make sure he’s okay after being _knocked unconscious.)_

“- why the Duke feels like such a threat. In part, at least. The feeling that you may be a bad person who doesn’t have control over yourself or your destiny causes you to fear that you may actually act on these thoughts.”

“What if _you_ sniffed your _dog’s_ butt?”

...ew. 

Thomas sighs. “Shut _up.”_

“I guess that makes sense…” Virgil says. “I mean, I sound the alarm whenever Roman -” _that’s him, that’s him_ “- suggests Thomas talk to a cute guy, so… it follows that I would have even more of a reaction to _Remus’_ suggestions.”

“Speaking of suggestions, when are you _actually_ going to jump out of a moving car? I’ve been bringing it up for years. Still nothing.” Remus says. Roman’s glad that he still seems to be enjoying this, even though… even though everyone else is being so… dismissive. (No, stop it, stop it, they’re not _dismissive_ they just don’t know - they just don’t know what he’s done for him, if they did everything would be different.) **(Morality says Remus is bad, so Remus is BAD. Stop ARGUING.)** (REMUS IS _NOT_ BAD!) 

“It’s like if you had a child who, despite all of your best efforts, refuses to stop screaming on an airplane.” Logan says calmly, and Remus shouts, “POOPY!” It’s funny. Not the… funny-funny, just the ironic sort. Roman is more of a child than Remus, his brother is just… different. “There’s no out. Just accept it. They’ll tire themself out in time and you can better address the issue later. There’s no rush for you.” “Poopy…” “It’s okay. Just keep doing whatever you were doing before. The other passengers on the plane might become frustrated, and that’s okay too. Everything is okay.”

“Wow,” Thomas breaths, relieved. Patton says, “That was amazing Logan!”

Roman has a very different feeling on Logan’s little speech, but he doesn’t say anything. Patton is Morality, after all.

But maybe… 

Maybe he _can_ disagree?

**_NO._ **

He squeezes his eyes shut further. The voice is right, if he wants to be good for Thomas he has to listen to Morality - except about Remus, because he _knows_ that if Patton just _knew_ then he’d change his mind.

“When something is hurting you, or inhibiting you, you seek someone who can help.”

Remus huffs in annoyance.

“I didn’t realize…” Patton says quietly. “What an impossible standard I’ve been setting.” _What?_ “I can’t control every little thing that pops into your head. This may be unnecessary, but… it’s okay if you sometimes think some… icky thoughts, Thomas. You have my… permission.”

Roman feels himself pull back, thoughts freezing, fingers curling on the carpet.

“Actually that… does, kinda help, Patton,” Thomas answers. Then his tone shifts to determination and annoyance. “And as for _YOU-”_

Logan interrupts, _thankfully._ “Uh, that’s - really not necessary, Thomas.”

“Why don’t you just take a breather, kiddo?” Patton adds gently.

“Yeah… yeah. I should.” 

Roman can hear Thomas walk away, lay on the couch with a groan. He thinks that maybe now he should get up? He doesn’t really want to… Just as he starts to push himself up, Virgil starts speaking, and he stops.

“You know what’s funny? You… used to to _really_ unsettle me. I thought that you were some… terrible illness. Now I can see that you’re just… a common cold. A mild inconvenience that’s… gone before you know it.”

Roman… thinks that’s progress? Probably? He kind of wants to deck Virgil for calling Remus an _illness,_ but Remus laughs so he doesn’t get up just yet. “You tickle me, emo! Well, I enjoyed this! Good seeing you again Virgil - it was just like old times!”

Remus sinks out. That’s his cue, he thinks. So he pushes himself to his feet, rubbing his still throbbing head - mostly from his thoughts, now, not from Remus. He thinks briefly, but doesn’t have much time, so he just groans, “I can see now… why everyone was _reluctant -”_ to put it _lightly_ “- to tell me what was going on.”

“Roman!” Thomas gasps and gets up, running over with his hands held open, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment Roman thinks he’s going to _hug_ him. He… doesn’t.

“You’re alive!” Patton exclaims happily. Roman doesn’t like how that makes him feel. Patton didn’t know he was _alive?_ And he wasn’t - didn’t _check,_ didn’t _cry,_ didn’t _care -_ is this what would’ve happened if Remus hadn’t saved him? 

“I love you!” Thomas says, and Roman’s thoughts twist back in shock.

“Are you…” Virgil starts. “Good?”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he says. He’s _not._ He’s just decided, he is very much _not_ okay. 

“Aww, are you hurt at all?” Padre asks.

“My head’s fine,” he sighs, and sets his shoulders, ready to tell them. “More than anything, I feel like I was struck by a… realization. Like Einstein, with the apple,”

“You mean Newton?” Logan corrects, and Roman snaps, “Oh _shut up,_ Nerdy Wolverine!” He was going to tell them that he’s _not okay,_ that they’re not - that - that they don’t have to keep _pretending_ to care about him when they _obviously_ don’t. Then he realizes what he’s doing. He’s being _bad,_ being _selfish,_ he needs to be _good_ or they’ll decide that he’s not worth it anymore. 

“No! Ugh! I mean,” he sighs, swallowing his frustration. “I’m _sorry,_ Logan. I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s… it’s quite alright, Roman.” It’s really not. “However, the more pertinent question is… is _Thomas_ alright?”

What? No, no, he’s right - it’s just - no, Thomas is more important.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I’m - I’m alright.”

“Alright, alright, alright! Am I right?” Patton agrees happily.

“That was _not_ alright.”

Virgil says, “That word’s been said so much now that it sounds all… _wrong.”_

“Well, I believe I was summoned to help address this matter, and it seems to be settled now. Your next course of action should be settling into bed for the night to revitalize your immune system, as well as your short term memory. You wouldn’t want to forget everything you’ve just learned.” Logan finishes, amusement and fondness leaking into his voice.

“Logan…” Thomas says. “Thank you. So much!”

“Oh, please, don’t mention it. Just another day’s work.”

“No, seriously. You’re really… cool.”

Logan gives a disbelieving _huh_ and sinks out. Roman wonders if he’ll get to sink out now, too, or if he should… stay.

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll- I’ll try not to pester you too much tonight, kiddo. I can’t promise that I’ll never have another knee-jerk reaction! But I can try to make peace with whatever thoughts dance through your head. Whether they be sugarplums or-”

“Smelly bums!” Remus suggests, startling him. His brother gives him a quick nudge on the shoulder, and he nudges him back, trying not to smile.

“Or that,” Patton smiles wryly.

“This was fun!” Remus declares, grinning widely. He can’t help but be glad for that. "A Thomas Sandwich, hold the Roman lettuce. You should really make that the usual, because Roman will make ya sick!” 

Roman rolls his eyes (fondly, but they don’t know that). “And yet, as soon as _I_ was removed from the picture, Thomas had a Dukey problem!”

“Thomas already made a Dukey joke, byeee~!” he sinks down again, waving with his fingers.

Roman groans, and suddenly his heartbeat is thrumming in his chest. He’s alone. Alone with Thomas and Virgil and Remus isn’t here. And his body isn’t _listening_ to him. **“Don’t like him,”** he mutters, and feels his blood run cold. 

The voice - he’s _terrified,_ and _apparently_ that means that the strongest part of him is in charge, he realizes hysterically. The part that kicks in when he’s scared and _alone_ in front of a judging audience- _no,_ he’s going to ruin _everything!_

“So…” Thomas begins. “You have a brother…?”

Roman finds himself sighing. **“Yeah. It’s… a little like looking into a funhouse mirror, but instead of a giant head, or like, long legs and a tiny torso…”** he chuckles half-heartedly. _Don’t, don’t -_ **“It shows you… everything you don’t wanna be.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wow Roman." Remus says, voice choked and harsh. "Is that what you really -"


	17. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Swearing (more than usual), Graphic Depictions of (not violence?) Injuries, Broken Ribs, Broken Glass, Broken Roman, Toxic Thinking, Lashing Out, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, So Much ANGST oh my g-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for this one - I really wanted to fix everything in this chapter and have them make up but I'm sorry I had to do it because plottt-

The funny thing about regret is that no matter how much of it you have or how soon it hits you with its thousand-brick force, even if it hits you before the words leave your mouth, is that it can’t do anything. It doesn’t _fix_ anything. It won’t let you go back in time and shove the words back in your throat. It just hits you, makes you feel heavy and sick, and leaves you reeling in shock.

Roman has never liked that feeling.

He sinks out as soon as he can, with his own words ringing in his ears.

**_“He’s gone now and he’s never coming back!”_ **

He can’t help but hear the truth in that. He - 

How could he have - 

_No-_

He hates himself. He _fucking_ hates himself. He’s ruined the only good thing he has, there’s no coming back from this, no making it up to Remus because he _knows_ he doesn’t deserve forgiveness.

He rises up in his room, and for a moment, his stomach drops as he doesn’t see any sign of his brother. His face is frozen in his smile, which looks more like a grimace, and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears. _Everything you don’t wanna be._

Then he feels eyes boring into the back of his head, and his grimace twists into despair.

“Wow Roman.” Remus says, voice choked and harsh. “Is that what you really - you know what? I don’t fucking care. I tried! I _fucking_ tried, and maybe the next time I regret not being able to be with you, I can just fucking remember that I _fucking_ tried, huh!?"

Roman doesn’t turn around. His feet are glued to his floor, but all he wants to do is turn around and tell Remus that he _didn’t mean it._

Remus exhales sharply, then inhales, and it sounds too heart-wrenchingly close to a sob for his clenching heart to take.

“Yeah. I tried,” his brother sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. Roman wants nothing more than to _kill himself_ and just - _stop it,_ stop hurting everyone, stop hurting _Remus,_ who’s only helped him, who _saved his life,_ who is the _only_ reason that Roman wanted to live for the last three months. He’s scared. He’s fucking _terrified,_ because he didn’t know that could _happen,_ he didn’t know that he was so goddamn _scared_ of the others that he couldn’t stand up for his own fucking _twin!_

“R-Rem-” he stutters, gasping for breath after just _that._

_Please, please, please please please PLEASE -_

“NO!” Remus shouts, nearly spitting it out. “You- you can’t just - this was a fucking _dream come true_ for me, Roman!” Not Ro, not Brother, not Princey, _Roman._ “I finally got to have my brother back, and yeah, I really fucking wish it didn’t take you _nearly killing yourself_ to consider being my friend again! But you know what?” His voice breaks. “I fucking _tried._ And I guess you don’t really care, huh. Well. I’m sorry I’m not _good enough_ for you, Roman! I’m sorry I’m just _everything you don’t wanna be._ ‘Cause you’re right. I’m going now and I’m _never_ coming back!”

His door slams. 

It rings in his ears. 

He doubles over in pain and _screams,_ dropping to his knees and collapsing in choked sobs as his ribs snap, _one two three_ ~~_four_ ~~ _and_ ~~_WITHOUT HESITATING HE NEEDS TO DIG THE BLADE INTO HIS SKIN AND_ **_RIP THROUGH THE ARTERY_ ** ~~

Roman stumbles to his feet, his ribs screaming in agony, _him_ screaming in agony, and he tries to sink out to the Dark Side but he _can’t,_ it shoves him right back out and presses his broken ribs into his hyperventilating lungs with a flash of white-hot pain. He wails brokenly, face crumpling in desolation. 

_No, no, NO, he can’t LEAVE IT LIKE THIS -_

_HE HAS TO AT LEAST FUCKING_ **_TRY_ ** _BEFORE HE -_

He shoves open his door and staggers, stumbling through his hall and slamming into his trophy case, shattering the glass and getting shards jammed into his shoulder. He doesn’t care. Nothing _matters_ right now, nothing except the fact that his world is crumbling down and he _doesn’t want it to._

Roman nearly falls down the stairs, sobbing with every _hard,_ tripping step that hurts like hell is spawning from his ribs and stabbing into his flesh. (IT’S NOT, YOU’RE FINE, STOP BEING DRAMATIC YOU’RE RUINING **EVERYTHING** \- )

He keeps stumbling into the walls, but he presses onward, ignoring the three _taunting, mocking, laughing_ halls and lurching down the last flight of stairs, not even caring that his shoulder is hot and slick with blood and it’s soaking his white shirt and puddling on the floor with every step he makes. It hurts, it hurts like _fucking hell,_ but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as he knows he should be hurting - 

Roman bursts into the commons and stumbles, nearly falling to his hands and knees, but pushing himself back up. He keeps moving. He has to, he has to keep moving, he _has_ to try the door because right now that is the _only_ hope he has and if it’s locked he _knows_ he won’t be able to keep going.

The commons are empty. They’re always empty right after a video, he’d forgotten, because he spends more time in his room than even the emo nightmare himself - 

He makes it to the third flight of stairs that go _down down down_ into the dim light and to the black door with splintering cracks of white echoing from the center like punched glass. He’s barely breathing - no, he’s breathing too much - he doesn’t _know_ \- nothing is right, everything is wrong, it hurts so much but he doesn’t care. 

He grasps the handle with a bloody hand and leans his weight on the door, light-headed and nauseous from the screaming pain. 

It doesn’t turn.

That’s all it takes. There’s a moment, a moment, just a moment where the hope lies suspended in the coppery air - and then it crumbles into dust, just like his heart, just like his resolve and any will he had left to keep breathing.

“No-” he sobs. “No no nononono- no, _please,_ no - no-”

The door stays firmly shut. The handle doesn’t turn. The wood is cold and it hurts, but maybe that’s the solid barrier pushing the glass shards deeper into his shoulder, maybe that’s the hopelessness crushing his lungs, maybe that’s his knees and arms pushing his broken ribs into his chest and stealing his breath with the razor-sharp agony.

_“Please…”_

He can’t breathe. 

Does he want to?

He needs to, his lungs are burning, everything _hurts,_ but he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to.

He’s not sure how much time is slipping away, with him just curled up in despair against the black door at the bottom of the third flight of stairs. He doesn’t really care. All he knows is that he’s suspended in sluggish black ink, growing used to the amount of pain he’s in, knowing that if he moves even a hair’s breadth he’s going to be consumed in pain and he’s not going to be able to take it.

If he doesn’t move, at least he can pretend that time isn’t passing. He can pretend that it’s still the same moment, can pretend that he’s not falling _down down down,_ too far to climb back out. He can pretend that he’s not staring into nothing, eyes blank and vision blurred. He can pretend that he’s okay. He can pretend that Remus still cares about him.

If he listens very closely, he can hear muffled screams and shrieks and things shattering, can almost picture what is happening behind the black door and through the hall and in the room with the green door and his - 

And Remus.

_“Love ya too, bro~!”_

His heart twists.

 _“I’m going now and I’m_ **_never coming back!”_ **

**Look at this. You messed up again. You ruined the only good thing you had because that’s just what you do. You’re just a selfish, pathetic, childish** **_coward._ **

**He’s never going to talk to you again. He SHOULDN’T. All you do is ruin things. Again and again, no matter what you do, all you do is ruin EVERYTHING!**

**There’s nothing you can do. Just give up like the weak bitch you are and stop trying, you’ll only make things worse just like you always do. It would be better for everyone if you just stopped existing.**

He hears Logan coming down the stairs. With every firm, calculated, light step, his lips draw further away from his teeth and a growl builds up in the back of his throat. He doesn’t look away from the nothing he’s staring into.

When Logan speaks up with a gentle, with a _scared_ “Roman?” he _snarls._ He doesn’t look away, but he snaps, voice filled with _nothing_ but anger and self-hatred. 

“Leave me _alone.”_

Logan’s steps halt. His voice comes again, soothing, _hesitant._ “Roman.”

Roman tears his eyes away from the nothing and stabs his cold gaze into Logan’s wide blue eyes. “Unless you’re going to kill me _right now_ just **_LEAVE ME ALONE!”_** he screams, snapping bloodied teeth and ripping ~~four~~ lines into his skin with his nails. 

The other takes a step back, but _doesn’t leave._ “Roman,” he says again. “You’re hurt.”

He snorts and turns to stare at the nothing again. _You think? I don’t fucking care._

“I can help,” Logan says. “But I need you to let me.”

“Fat chance,” he grins, eyes empty again. It’s only a moment, but for that one moment, it’s quiet, and he thinks he can hear something break. His smile slips off like liquid, as though it were never there. 

“I want to die,” he says, devoid of emotion. 

Logan sucks in a breath. “Why?” he asks.

Roman doesn’t answer. 

Logan approaches, puts his hand on his arm. Slowly pulls it away from his knees. He doesn’t give any resistance. Logan gently unfolds him, brows furrowing at the sight of his blood-soaked costume. (That’s what it is. Nothing more than a costume.)

He doesn’t have the energy to do anything as Logan carefully picks him up, just sobs as the pain flashes white behind his eyelids and makes him try to curl in on himself even though that just makes it worse. 

He doesn’t care.

He’s just lost everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no way he can -


	18. The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of Injuries, Toxic Thinking, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Repression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry- Things do get better! I promise! Just hang on for- um - another chapter after this!

Roman finds that being in Logan’s room, and in his bed especially, is… much less painful than being curled up against a closed door. It has an atmosphere that just feels so much like _Logan_ that it’s hard to remember what Remus feels like. That just makes his stomach twist painfully, though. He doesn’t want to forget Remus. He wants to hold onto every bit of him he has left because he knows it’s only a matter of time now.

It’s… warm, in Logan’s room, even without a blanket. (Logan said something about not aggravating his wounds, but he wasn’t paying attention.) Still, he longs for something _more,_ the kind of heat that he knows he won’t be able to have anymore. Logan touched him, he did, when he was cleaning up his shoulder. There was a steady hand on his chest and little, painful brushes on his shoulder while the logical side pulled out the shards of glass one by one. He can still feel their phantom presence, but not the heat, and he wishes - not for the first and not for the last time - that he doesn’t have to hold himself back.

If he could, Roman would ask Logan for a hug. But he knows that Logan would decline, both because he wouldn’t want to hurt him but also because that’s _weird,_ and even though Logan said they were friends he was mean to Remus and Roman hates him for that. (If Logan were just… nicer to Remus, Roman wouldn’t have been the only one, and then he could’ve said what he _meant_ to say and everything would be _okay_ but it’s not and it will _never be_ because Roman ruined _everything -_ )

Everything hurts. It hurts so _bad,_ and part of him hates that it does. It’s not _fair,_ he shouldn’t be hurting this much - he wishes he could stop trying to be the victim for _once_ in his life and help the _actual_ victims, like _Remus,_ who tried his best for a lost cause. 

Logan gave him painkillers. They’re going to kick in, in a moment, and they’re gonna numb the pain so that it doesn’t hurt so badly. He didn’t have the energy to protest, but now he kind of wishes he did. Because the other part of him knows he deserves to hurt. He _deserves_ to feel guilty and desolate and _alone_ and he _deserves_ to feel like he’s breaking apart. 

It’s been a few hours now. Logan left about twenty minutes ago, to go to the commons to discuss the video with Patton and Virgil. He’d wanted to tell them about Roman and what he said too, but Roman made sure that he wouldn’t. _“If you value our friendship, Logan, you won’t tell them what I said.”_

_“What will I tell them, then? I do value our friendship, but I don’t want you hurting yourself if there’s a clear solution that involves simply telling them,”_

_“I don- I don’t know. Tell them it’s ego bruises or something. It’s not like it’d be a_ **_lie._ ** _Just don’t say anything about what I said.”_

_“...Fine. But… you have to promise that you won’t hurt yourself.”_

_“Fine.”_

Obviously, Roman was lying. But he doesn’t really care all that much anymore. He doesn’t know how he’s going to “bounce back” from this - he knows he _won’t_ \- but at least if no one’s worried about him he can go back to being his “usual self” and maybe Thomas won’t decide that he’s not useful anymore.

But, Logan _knows._ Logan knows, and if he sees Roman pretending to be okay so soon he’ll know it’s fake and then he’ll tell _everyone._ There’s no way he can - there’s no way he’s gonna be able to convince Logan that he’s fine.

(What if he just… doesn’t bother? What if he just pretends it never happened? Then, as long as Logan doesn’t think he’s hurting himself, he can’t tell anyone! And even if he does, Roman can deny it up and down and twist things in his favor, say it was his usual dramatics or something - they’ll believe that.)

Roman’s eyes close at some point, and he sinks, _down down down._ He wishes he could stay down forever. There’s just… something, about being _nearly_ asleep that makes him feel like he’s almost okay. But then he slips just a little further, and he’s gone.

* * *

Apparently, Logan isn’t very great at first-aid, even though he claims to know everything that Thomas has ever learned. Maybe he does, Roman doubts that Thomas has ever learned how to treat broken ribs and possibly-infected shoulder wounds. But the point is, Logan nearly bandaged his torso to try and keep the broken bones from moving too much, which, Roman can speak from experience here, is a _terrible_ idea. 

The one time he tried bandaging his chest to help a broken rib, Roman ended up with pneumonia and was out for _weeks._ It’s really not fun.

Fortunately, when Roman told Logan not to, the nerd listened and then decided to look it up (because apparently Logan doesn’t trust him on this) and sheepishly admitted that he’s right, and broken ribs should just be left alone. 

Now Logan’s sleeping on the floor, because he absolutely refused to sleep in the same bed as Roman and risk hurting him, and Roman’s just staring at Logan’s star-spangled ceiling and trying to fall asleep again. He can’t. Sure, his ribs don’t hurt _so_ much thanks to Logan and his anesthetics, but his mind just won’t shut off. He needs something to occupy his thoughts, and if he were in his own room he could put on a soundtrack or hug his conflicting feelings away with one of his stuffies. 

He’s not in his room, though, so he just stares at the ceiling. 

He doesn’t really want to think about it. There’s no need to say what ‘it’ is in this situation, because there really is only one thing ‘it’ could be. Roman doesn’t want to think about what happens now. He doesn’t _know_ what happens now, and he really wishes that he did. 

* * *

Patton brings him chicken noodle soup the afternoon after Logan found him. He doesn’t stay around long, because Thomas needs him and Logan ushers him out, but he does come. Roman pretends to be asleep the whole time because he doesn’t know how to process his conflicting feelings about Patton right now.

He keeps his breathing deep and even, keeps his face relaxed, and he decidedly _doesn’t_ flinch when Patton says something about _Remus._ He hates it. He hates how when Patton mentions his brother, he wants to cry and scream and he feels angry and sad and guilty all at once. He hates that Patton is being so _mean_ to Remus, and he hates himself for hating that, because Patton doesn’t _know._ Patton is Morality and Morality is never wrong, but that doesn’t mean that he knows everything. _No one_ knows everything. It’s just that Patton, more often than not, knows better than _him._

Virgil visits right after Patton, asking Logan a lot of uncharacteristically quiet questions about what happened and if he’s going to be okay. Logan, true to his word, doesn’t mention where he found Roman or what Roman said. He tells Virgil that he found Roman in the commons, seriously injured from ego bruising, and that he doesn’t know why it’s so severe this time. 

Roman is still pretending to be asleep, so he doesn’t have to answer that. He’s glad. He doesn’t want that _stupid, bad, BAD_ voice in the back of his head to screw things over even further by saying it’s _Remus’_ fault or something. Because it’s _not._ It’s _his_ fault, it’s always his fault but this time it really _is._

Remus would never hurt him. (Not like he hurt Remus.)

Then he leaves, and he decides that it’s easier to pretend to be asleep than to pretend to slowly wake up, so he doesn’t change his breathing pattern or facial expression so that Logan will just do his work and he won’t have to answer any pressing questions.

* * *

After a couple more days of being bedridden, Roman decides to give himself a few rules to keep from messing up before he can make it up to Remus. As much as he wishes that he could just kill himself and stop hurting everyone, he can’t die when Remus still thinks that he doesn’t appreciate what he did. He needs to make sure that Remus knows he’s sorry, because whatever he can put in a suicide note won’t be nearly enough.

_Rule One: don’t try contributing in discussions._

That’s how he ruined everything, after all. By arguing to let Deceit stay, by making bad decisions, by talking about Remus without support. If he just… doesn’t give his opinions on anything important, there’s no way he can screw up as massively as he has ever again.

_Rule Two: always agree with Patton (except about Remus. REMUS IS GOOD.)_

Patton is Morality, after all. He… he can be _allowed_ to disagree in his head, he decides, but if he wants the others to think he’s _good_ and worth keeping around then he has to agree with everything that Morality says is the right thing to do. (Selfishness will _always_ lose to selflessness, as he’s realized.)

_Rule Three: act like the Prince at all times._

No more Freudian slips, no more out-of-character behavior, no more _anything_ that will tell them that he’s not being perfectly honest with them about who he is. 

He doesn’t like it much, but he doesn’t care. He really doesn’t. He can pretend, he’s a brilliant actor if nothing else. 

He can save his real thoughts for when he’s alone and they won’t hurt anyone.

* * *

By Day 7, Roman’s up and walking again. It took a lot of convincing to get Logan to agree, but really, even though he has ~~four~~ broken ribs, walking around is better than accumulating liquid in his lungs and screwing himself up so bad he ends up dying anyways. Patton and Virgil and Logan all keep giving him concerned looks, but he grins and brushes it all off, and when Logan corners him on his way to his room, he just shakes his head and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lo. I’m doing wonderfully!”

But when he’s in his room he breaks apart again. (Safely hidden. Where he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.)

And he doesn’t know how he’s still standing. But he knows he has to - if only to tie up loose ends before - before he makes any big decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey... Remus. You're probably not listening right now but I just wanted to -"


	19. Small Red Songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Toxic Thinking, Mild Dissociation, Repression, Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, the next chapter has comfort in it - 
> 
> (Anyone have any tips for dealing with really bad, constant anxiety? Ignoring the source is the only thing that helps, but that's giving me really bad grades-)

Roman had his weekly meeting with Logan today. It went well, though Logan did try to ask him if he’s okay a few times, and right afterwards he went to go give Thomas one of his favorites. Thomas agreed to it, thank the heavens.

Coming up with ideas alone, while something he did for years, is still not something he’s done in months. He misses Remus so much… and not just because it’s easier to be creative when he can bounce ideas off of someone, but because of Remus’ little quips and crude jokes and wiggling excitement and the familiar glint in his green eyes and the way his mustache quirks up with his smirks - 

It’s probably not normal to miss his brother with his whole being like this. Especially since he’s still _alive_ for fuck’s sake - so why does - why _did_ he pay so much attention to all those little things that he misses more than _anything_ right now? Why does he feel like his heart is broken, ground under his own booted heel? 

Well. Maybe it’s not so odd. Remus… was his closest friend, for these past three months. He’s never felt so… _cared_ about, by anyone, the way Remus cared. Remus _saved his life._ Remus hung out with him, brainstormed with him, patched him up, and Roman felt like he was Remus’ little brother, and Remus was his older brother, and he _cared._

 _Cared…_ It hurts that it’s in past tense. It hurts that he’s ruined it all. It hurts, and that’s why he’s here, at the bottom of the third flight of stairs knocking on a black door. It hurts, and that’s why there’s a folded piece of paper in his left hand with the name _Remus_ written on it in a blotchy scrawl.

“Hey... Remus. You're probably not listening right now but I just wanted to - ” his voice, barely loud enough to… hopefully… make it through the black painted door, cracks. “Just wanted to say I didn’t - I didn’t mean it. I just - I couldn’t -” 

Roman sighs. This is, admittedly, a lot harder than he thought it would be. And he’d already believed that it’d be difficult. He swallows painfully and shifts his weight. Suddenly, he’s all too aware that he’s probably just talking to a door with no one on the other side, talking to black paint and splintering white cracks. His mouth twists into a grimace. 

“I was alone,” he says quietly, so that he knows it won’t carry up the stairs behind him where, maybe, one of the others might hear. Even though they’re all asleep. Even though it’s four in the morning, and even though by that logic, neither Remus or… anyone else is listening either. “I - it’s scary. To be alone? I’m sorry. I tried… I promise I tried… I wanted to - to say something else, to stand up for you, but - ” he stops. 

No one is listening. Obviously, no one is listening, least of all who he’s trying to talk to. This is useless. Completely foolish, _stupid,_ utterly _pathetic._ Roman can’t keep going. He’s not going to… going to bare his soul to a black door, not unless he knows that his brother is listening from the other side.

He shakes his head and kneels down, ignoring the way his ribs spike in pain and protest, placing the folded sheet of paper on the floor and sliding it under the door. Then Roman stands, straightens, turns on his heel and strides back up the stairs without looking back. 

It’s a drawing. If… If Remus opens it, and doesn’t immediately light it on fire, he’ll see that it’s a drawing of a dark green octopus in a tide pool, with a small red songbird perched on one of its arms. He… he drew it with colored pencils. His favorite kind, the ones that had somewhat muted colors but drew really smoothly.

He’d spent all afternoon on it, but… he probably won’t see it again.

* * *

For some reason, Virgil isn’t coming out of his room. It’s been about two weeks since the video, and usually, Virgil only spends at _most_ one or two days in his room at a time before coming back out. The emo just really likes sitting on the counter in the kitchen and socializing for a few minutes from time to time - and it’s not good for him to spend too much time alone because he tends to get lost in his head.

Patton knocks on Virgil’s door every day for dinner, and when the anxious side doesn’t answer he leaves a plate of food that’s always gone by morning. It’s concerning, because Virgil must be blocking Patton from simply rising up in his room, and Roman can only remember one other time that that happened. (And it was his fault.)

Roman knows because he himself is feeling restless. He can’t spend much time doing nothing, and he can’t let himself get hurt in the Imagination because of his broken ribs, so he comes out of his room a little more often. He also comes down really early every morning, when everyone’s asleep or busy in their rooms. So he can head down the third flight of stairs and talk to the black door for a couple minutes, and then when inevitably no one answers, he leaves a drawing or a note under it and leaves, telling himself that he was never there in the first place so that it hurts less.

Because Patton is making daily trips to Virgil’s hall now, Roman is more likely to run into him when he’s restlessly roaming the mind palace. But that’s not the only thing. Logan actually knocked on his door this morning (even though he can simply rise in if it’s important) asking if he wanted to have a brainstorming session.

He refused. Politely. Of course he did! He can’t _imagine_ having a brainstorming session with anyone but his brother, _especially_ not when he’s still mourning the loss of him. 

Roman has a hard time feeling like things are… real, now. But that’s alright. He figures that as long as he sees this as just a play, where he is playing a character and everyone knows it, then it won’t hurt so badly. And it doesn’t! He thinks that he has plenty of time to decide that things are real again once he convinces Remus that he didn’t mean it.

(And he has to think in terms of ‘once’ because if he thinks in terms of ‘if’ then it’s harder to tell himself that he needs to do it.)

He finds himself falling back on lies again and again. It’s ironic, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Hey kiddo, are you okay?”

“I assure you, dear Padre, I am doing splendidly! Thank you for asking! And how are _you_ on this fine afternoon?”

“Roman, have you been hurting yourself?”

“Why in the Thomas-sphere would I do that, _mi portátil para caminar?”_

“I’m doing wonderfully!”

“Of course, I’d _love_ to join you for movie night~!”

“Yes, Lo-gigabyte, I slept. Why, were you worried?”

“Thomas! I’ve been absolutely _brimming_ with ideas lately, would you like to hear some?”

“I’m sure you’ll get his number! I’m in charge, am I not?”

“Oh, I agree with _mi corazón,_ Adri’s invitation is clearly more important than Thomas’ skit, he can always do that later, but Adri cannot wait~!”

The only time when he’s not bubbling with lies of commission and omission and fabrication and exaggeration and character lies and white lies - is when he’s standing in front of the black door with white splintering cracks echoing from the center, far too early in the morning for anyone else to be out of their rooms.

He knows that no one’s listening. Somehow, that doesn’t stop him from trying. And every night, he slides a paper under the door, and hopes that maybe at least one of them will make it to Remus’ eyes. 

* * *

It’s been a month now.

Virgil is coming out of his room again, and the halls are empty once more, while the commons are livelier. He tries to avoid the commons a little more. Roman’s ribs aren’t fully healed yet - he knows from experience that it’s going to be another month or so before then - but his shoulder wounds have long since scabbed over. 

He’s fairly certain that Logan’s forgotten about Roman’s little… slip-up, or at least that the nerd has better things to think about now. That stings a little, but to be honest, that’s what he’s been trying to get Logan to do ever since he let it slip.

Remus hasn’t responded to any of his messages, and when he finally sucks up his pride and puts his head against the floorboards to peek under the door, he sees a mess of his papers, untouched.

He’s not sure what that means. Is that good? Does that mean that Remus just hasn’t seen them yet? Does that mean that if he keeps going, Remus will eventually get tired of seeing the pile keep growing and open one? Or maybe if he just hasn’t seen it yet, Remus will still be mad and decide to throw them in the ocean. Is it… bad…? Does Remus just not care enough to open any of them? Is he ignoring him until he stops foolishly hoping and just leaves him alone?

He swallows painfully and gets up, walking back upstairs with his eyes fixed on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman is just about to open the door to his room when -


	20. Day 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Repression, Anxiety, Brief Suicidal Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally - here you are - a somewhat short chapter, still above my minimum of 1500 words, though!
> 
> I'm curious, where do all a' you think this story's going? I want cOnSpIrAcY ThEoRiEs-

_I’m sorry. I miss you. I promise I didn’t mean what I said, I promise, I wanted to stand up for you but the others… I was so scared, Remus, I was so scared that if I did then they’d hate me and if they hate me then I’m bad and I don’t wanna be bad, I want to be Thomas’ hero. But I really really miss you. I won’t ever do it again. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it… you’re amazing. You’re fun and you make funny jokes, and you saved my life, and you helped me when I was sad and you stood up for me when Deceit wanted me to leave. I love you. I’m really sorry…_

_Roman_

He finishes the letter and sighs, looking up blearily at the clock on his nightstand, the one he only fixed a couple weeks ago. _3:29 AM._

He stands up, then winces. He rolls his shoulders back, rolls his neck, and then stretches his arms one at a time. This is one of his… more coherent notes. Most of his previous ones have been… mostly just scrawling apologies and scribbled out self-deprecation. (No guilting Remus into coming back.) 

It’s Day 36. 

Roman picks up the note, folds it in half against the desk, and folds it in half one more time before waving himself into a red hoodie and loose black sweats. It’s comfortable, and it’s _3:41 AM,_ no one’s gonna see. 

He walks across his room and pulls open the door, quietly closing it behind him even though he’s so far from anyone that no one’s going to hear, even if they were awake. Heck, he can slam his door and no one will know except him. But still. He closes it quietly and starts walking through his hall. 

The trophy case has long since been fixed. He doesn’t remember doing it, so Logan probably fixed it while he was bedridden. He also must’ve cleaned up the bloodstains pretty early on, maybe even on his way to find the source. 

Roman starts down the stairs. 

Reflecting on the past month, he can’t help but feel dejected. He’s been… pretty bad. His ribs are nearly fully healed, they just give him twinges of pain when he moves wrong. His shoulder scabs have scarred, adding about a dozen new white lines to the plethora of scars he’s collected over the years. He supposes that he’s lucky no one ever worries about the scars themselves, just briefly over the injuries. It makes it easier for him to accept them as a part of him.

He reaches the bottom of both flights of stairs, takes a shaky breath, and lets his confidence slide off him like the mask it is. He hunches his shoulders and ducks his head, shoving his hands and the note in his pockets as he makes his way to the third flight of stairs. It’s darker than ever, with it being nearly four in the morning, and he can barely see the stairs - but by now he’s an expert at going downstairs blind, so the only reason he slows down is because he knows no one’s waiting for him on the other side of the door.

He stops in front of it. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I’m back… again… sorry.”

That’s all Roman can manage this time, so he snorts self-deprecatingly at himself and bends down, sliding his latest letter under the door where he knows it’ll just join the others. 

Without waiting for the answer he knows will never come, Roman turns back and heads back upstairs. As he walks, he makes his posture straighten and pulls his hands out of his pockets again to let them swing at his sides. 

Roman is just about to open the door to his room when - suddenly - a cold hand closes around his wrist.

“Wait,”

There’s a moment. A moment, where you’re walking over a bridge, not paying attention to your surroundings because you’re busy thinking about something. Your mood is dull and somewhat melancholy, and you just want to head home so that you can flop into bed and pass out. And then your heart jolts, your toes get caught on a crack, your eyes fly open and you’re falling- 

That’s what this feels like.

Roman’s nerves are set off all at once, heart jumping, stomach flipping, eyes widening, spine shuddering, _warmwarmwarm_ heat pressing into and radiating from his wrist even though the touch itself is so _cold._ It feels like he’s been hit by a train, the breath knocked out of him, but it feels so _warm_ and he can’t help it when he turns around and his eyes are so blurred with tears that he can barely see.

Remus is _there._ Right there. 

Pale skin, unkempt mustache, bleached streak of hair, a simple gray sweatshirt and ripped black shorts. Salty, like the ocean; earthy, hot and cold at the same time. His hand is cold but the touch is _so warm_ and so _good…_ Remus. Remus Remus Remus. _Remus._ He’s _here._

Why is he here?

Remus’ eyes are red. There are bags under them, dark and rivaling Virgil’s eyeshadow. He’s a little paler than usual. He’s clutching an unfolded sheet of paper so tightly that it’s nearly being crushed. Roman recognizes it as the note he’d just left under the door to the Dark Side, and he’s not… not sure what to make of that. He can’t help but - but _hope,_ that maybe Remus is here and maybe they can be brothers again - but he knows that Remus is probably just here to give the pathetic note back and tell him to fuck off and leave him alone.

He takes a quiet breath and sets his shoulders, lifting his trembling chin just slightly and waiting for Remus’ verdict.

“I… Ro…” Remus’ dulled green eyes fall to the ground, searching for words. Roman swallows and waits, the tension the only thing keeping him from running right into Rem’s arms and breaking down in tears. 

After a long moment, the tension is just - it’s too much for Roman. He just wants to get it over with, wants the rejection _now_ so that he doesn’t have to deal with his hopes being cut into little pieces and scattered in the wind. He wants to know for sure that Remus doesn’t want him anymore so that he doesn’t have to wait anymore and he can just down a bottle of pills or - or stab himself in the heart and just _die._

He deflates and turns away, swallowing again and rapidly blinking the tears away. “It’s fine. I won’t… I’ll stop. Leaving letters and stuff,” he mutters. His voice is choked, but he tries his best to keep the hurt from it. Remus doesn’t deserve that. “I - I get it.”

“No, Roman, I - I’m - you didn’t mean it,” Remus says desperately. Roman freezes. “Right? You- you said - in your letters, you said you didn’t mean it, d-did you… were you… are you sure? Do you… really, want… me?”

He swallows once more and flings himself into Remus, wrapping his arms around him and drinking in his scent and his warmth like it’s the only thing in the world that can satiate him. It is, _it really is -_

“Uh-huh,” he sniffles wetly, burying his face in Rem’s shoulder. His breaths come hitchingly. “M’ sorry. M’ sorry, sorry sorry sorry- missed you- m’ sorry I din’ mean to I promise!”

Rem stiffens, then hugs back tightly. Rem’s breathing quickly and a little sharply and he’s crying, but they’re both crying and Roman is drowning in warmth. He loves it, it feels amazing. It feels so _warm_ \- he never wants to let go. He wants Rem - he wants him to hold him, forever and ever and ever so that he never has to be cold ever again! 

“Alri-alright,” Rem says brightly. It sounds a little weird, though, filled with relief. 

Roman closes his eyes, so he can bask in the feelings. He doesn’t let go. He never wants to let go. He never wants to mess up ever again, he _can’t_ mess up ever again, he wants Rem and he hates the voice and he doesn’t even care if it keeps everyone else from hating him because all he wants is _Remus._ In a sudden moment of clarity, Roman decides that if and _when_ it comes down to it, Rem is _always_ more important than whatever the voice says. He _never_ wants to lose him again.

They’re quiet for a long time. Roman tries not to let it bother him. He tells himself that it’s just a quiet moment, that Rem isn’t just waiting for him to let go so that he can leave, that it’s _fine,_ that they’ll break the silence when it’s time. But it does. It makes his insides constrict uncomfortably and his thoughts buzz anxiously.

“I’m sorry too, Ro,” Rem cuts through the silence hesitantly. “I shouldn’t’a said I’d never come back. I missed you too…”

“Oh…” he takes in a deep breath.

“S’eep now?” he asks after a moment. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we can pass out now. My room?”

“P’ease?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman startles. What -


	21. Warm...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mild Toxic Thinking, Implied/Referenced Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Suicide (talking, no major character death here)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, NOTICE: I may not update tomorrow! If I do, it'll most likely be much later than usual, but don't count on it! 
> 
> (Also ~ d i s a p p o i n t m e n t ~ pals)

Rem’s room smells funny. Like salt and metal and trash. And! Rem’s bed is  _ super  _ soft! It’s always super soft though, and there are always lots and lots of blankies and pillows a’cause Rem says he can make a nest that way. Rem’s nests are the best! They make him feel all small and warm and happy. 

Oh! And, and, it’s not too bright in Rem’s room so Roman doesn’t have to close his eyes or feel too big. And he gets lots and lots of cuddles! He’s holding him and he’s not letting go and Roman’s  _ sooo  _ warm now… 

He doesn’t get to be warm a lot. He doesn’t like being cold, but no-one wants to touch him because he’s the prince and you’re Not Allowed to touch princes - he thinks he read that somewhere? But Rem’s a Duke so it’s okay. Right? That’s how it works. It has to be, ‘cause wouldn’t he get lots and lots of hugs all the time if it isn’t? 

Rem hugs really good. Warm and real and warm and real and warm and - and it’s the best thing in the world.

His eyes close, without him knowing, and all he thinks is that it’s warm. 

* * *

“Remus?”

It’s a soft whisper. And it sounds smooth, like… De- Dessie- Deceit? Roman startles. What -  _ no, no.  _ He stops himself from flinching. He’s gotta pr’tend to be sleeping! That way Deceit won’t get him. He can be like a spy! Wait, no, spies are  _ bad,  _ he gots to be a hero so… he’s hiding! He’s hiding from Des-Deceit. But he’s not scared, not-at-all! Never!  _ Not scared. _

Rem moves a little, rustling the blan-blankets. His voice sounds a bit rough. “Yeah Dee?”

There’s some quiet. But it sounds like maybe Deceit is sitting down somewhere? Rem has a desk (very messy desk, Roman thinks), and a chair, so De-Deceit is prob-ab-lie sitting there. 

“I take it things went  _ terribly  _ with Roman?” he asks quietly.

“Mm-hm,” Rem answers. His arm squeezes Roman a little. He bites his lip so he doesn’t smile (so warm…) even if his face is most-ly under a blanket. “He… he  _ wants  _ me, Dee-Dee,” he whispers. “He - he left twenty-nine letters, one every day - and - and he  _ missed  _ me! He actually  _ missed me,  _ Dee.”

“About time,” Deceit grumbles. Rem ignores it, but Roman feels… weird. Bad weird. 

“I left him alone. I left him! He might’ve… he might’ve…” Rem sniffles. His voice sounds… broken? “I could’ve lost him. Forever.”

It’s quiet again. 

“It’s not your fault, Re,” Deceit sounds hard. “Don’t you think that for  _ one minute.  _ And if you did lose him forever, it still wouldn’t be your fault.”

“You promise?” Rem sounds small. 

Deceit’s voice softens. “I promise.” He clears his throat, and it sounds like he’s standing up again. “Well. I’m going to go make breakfast now, before his Majesty wakes up, don’t bother staying asleep; I will be  _ devastated  _ if you don’t come punctually.”

Rem snickers, then goes quiet. Roman frowns a little, pushing his bottom lip out. Rem doesn’t go quiet! Rem’s loud and always talking and really fun, not  _ quiet,  _ unless it’s  _ serious. _ And serious is boring!

“Is it okay if I bring Ro?”

Deceit hesitates. “...I suppose… it would be inconceivable, if he were to agree.”

Rem giggles. “Jeez, Dee, don’t be too over-eager! You know you’ll hafta talk to him  _ sometime  _ if you want him on your  _ side  _ of things~!”

He huffs. “I’m sure that would work out  _ spectacularly.”  _ A moment. He sighs. “...Fine.”

The door closes. 

“Rem?” Roman speaks up, forgetting about his act. He turns his head to look up at his older brother, mouth scrunched up worriedly. “Is D- Dess-” 

“Deceit?” he presses curiously.

His face warms. “Is he bad?”

Rem pauses, frowning. Then he shakes his head slowly. “No. Dee isn’t bad. He might be a bit of a double-dick sometimes, and sure, he’s got some issues, but don’t we all?” Rem snickers. “We’re like an orgy of orcs who all think the others are human! Anyways. Dee’s not an angel, hell  _ forbid,  _ but none of us are. He’s actually, like, a huge dork. When he’s not tired or drunk or irritated, which is actually almost never! Except if you wake him up at one in the morning, I tried that once and he wouldn’t talk to me  _ all day.”  _

Roman thinks for a bit, chewing on a finger.

“Pat says lying is wrong. D-Dessiet- Deceit lies a lot… ” he says timidly.

“What does he lie about?” Rem asks, raising an eyebrow a little. He doesn’t sound mean, but Roman shrinks back anyways.

“He lies ‘bout liking me,” he mumbles, looking at his knees. “He said my name isn’... R- um, R… O… he um, he said it was W n’ then R, but it’s not! N’... n’ he said we can go to the call-back but Pat said we can’t.”

“Oh,” Rem looks like he’s thinking. Roman shifts uncomfortably. “Well, Dee-Dee likes being sarcastic a lot. I don’t think he expects you to believe him so much, and it’s probably hard to throw off the habit like a dozen tails with spears dipped in - nevermind that, um, alright! That last one, though, like - Ro - Patty-cakes isn’t always right.”

**YES HE IS!** Roman flinches, snaking a hand up to grab at his hair and  _ tug.  _ “But when-never I argue wif- with him evy-one says m’ bad!”

“What’s so bad about being bad?”

His face screws up in pain. He can’t be bad. He’s not allowed to be bad! Being bad is  _ bad,  _ and he’s the  _ hero,  _ he’s the prince! Princes are  _ good!  _ If he’s bad then he’s a problem n’ then he has to be a villain and he doesn’t wanna be a villain, ‘cause the bad guys always die n’ he doesn’t wanna have to die! He pulls his hair harder.

Rem hurriedly grabs his hand, and slowly uncurls his fingers, pulling it away from his hair. “No, no don’t do that - I didn’t - agh, nevermind, you’re not bad, listen? You’re the good twin, remember?” he jokes.

Roman’s eyes prick with tears.

“Wait! No, fu-  _ frick,  _ sorry, sorry, no evil twin business anymore I guess!” Rem scrambles. “Um, butts? Wait, not - ugh, I am  _ shit  _ at th- ah! Trash! I’m  _ trash  _ at this! Wait, what the heck?  _ Heck!?  _ I am being corrupted Roman! You are corrupting me! Okay, alright, hang on, lemme just -” he shakes out his hands and cracks his neck. “Alright! So! Point is, you’re not bad. Never ha- okay, mayb- no, never have been! So… yeah.”

He sniffles and buries his face in Rem’s shirt. It’s warm, it’s warm and that’s good. Rem is good, and Rem says he’s good, so he’s good too. Right? Right… right. Yeah.  _ Rem, Rem, Rem… he’s so warm…  _

Rem holds him for a while. Then he shifts, standing up, and when Roman doesn’t let go he picks him up and carries him across the room to the door. He gets jerked a bit when Rem opens it, but he just hugs him tighter. He never, ever,  _ ever  _ wants to be put down. 

He almost doesn’t notice when Rem sits down. His eyes are closed, and maybe he can just fall asleep again? He doesn’t sleep a lot anymore, but now he has Rem, and it’s just so  _ warm…  _ But then he hears Deceit and he burrows further into his older brother at the voice that makes his neck feel icy. 

“He’s… acting perfectly normally,” his smooth voice lilts upwards. “Remus, you didn’t drug him, did you? If you did I’m going to have to ask you to… ah, remedy that. We wouldn’t want the light sides getting upset.”

“That would be fun! But no, I didn’t give him  _ the stuff,”  _ his voice lowers gruffly. Then he laughs, and Roman can feel the way it makes his chest move. “He just kinda does this thing, where he acts weird and clingy and cu- UM yeah! I dunno. I think he does it when he’s overwhelmed or something?”

“I see,” Deceit hums in thought. 

“Yeah, when he’s like this he really likes being held, and he has a harder time talking I think. Or maybe he just doesn’t think so much?” Rem continues. 

“So… he goes nonverbal?” Deceit says. “Hang on, I’m going to do some research,”

“Hang on? Sure thing, boss~” Rem purrs playfully. Then he taps Roman on the shoulder. He looks up, eyes wide in surprise and curiosity. Rem asks, “You hungry? Dee made toast!”

He nods, blinking at the other side. Deceit’s wearing a yellow sweater, and his evil bowl hat. He looks focused on his phone. Rem pokes his cheek with something hard, and he tears his eyes away and opens his mouth, clamping down on the piece of toast without pulling his hands away from Rem. 

His older brother bursts into giggles, and he beams giddily. He made Rem laugh! He chews his bite and leans forward to take another, even though Rem’s hand is shaking a bit. 

After finishing the  _ whole  _ piece of toast and burying his head back into Rem’s shirt, he hears Deceit say something again. “I thought it sounded familiar! I think Roman’s  _ definitely not  _ an age regressor.”

“A what?” Rem asks, startled. Then he snickers quietly. “Heh, that sounds like  _ butt.”  _

“An age regressor,” Deceit repeats in fond exasperation. “Someone who reverts to childlike behavior to cope with stressors, according to this article. But really, it’s just someone who - to put it simply,  _ regresses  _ back to a childlike state of mind to deal with emotions, whether positive or negative, from what I’ve read.”

“So… Ro’s a kid right now?” Rem asks, poking his side. He twists away and fights off a giggle.

“Probably. You’d - ah, you’d have to ask him,” Deceit answers.

Rem pulls back, looking him in the eyes. He pouts. He wants cuddles! “Alright! Roman, this is very important! Can you tell me, um, how old you are?”

He blinks. “M’ t-twen- twen-”

“Maybe you  _ shouldn’t  _ ask him how old he feels, instead,” Deceit interrupts.

Roman looks over at him and frowns in confusion. How old he feels? But- but he’s the same as Thomas, right? He thinks about it. He feels kinda… little. And he feels like Rem’s older but Rem’s s’pposed to be the same as him. But he doesn’t know. 

He looks up at Rem. 

“Hugs?”

Rem shrugs at Deceit and pulls him closer. Warm… he really likes the warm. He sighs happily and snuggles into Rem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh shit - "


	22. Never Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Separation Anxiety, Breakdown, Tantrum? (Is it a tantrum if it's for a good reason?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, turns out I am updating! :)
> 
> So, in this story, I've decided that it's possible to intercept summons - and that Deceit is smart enough to know to intercept any summons for a little Roman. ;) Also, note, I am going to be properly addressing Roman's separation anxiety, not just using it as a plot device. (I figure that with Roman's history, it'd be weird if he didn't have it.)

“Alright Ro, how ‘bout we move this somewhere else?”

Rem carries them over to the liv-ing room.

Then he starts to set him down on the floor. Roman clutches his shirt tightly - _no no no don’t leave you can’t leave please no nono stay STAY don’t leaveplease you’re not ALLOWED you can’t LEAVE not EVER EVER never again, never never never, no no nonono-_

“Woah, Ro, it’s okay!” Rem assures frantically. He doesn’t let go. _STAY STAY you can’t leave - not allowed to let go, not allowed, not ALLOWED!_ “I’m not letting go!” 

Ro pauses. 

_…Not?_

Rem sits down too, criss-cross applesauce. Roman climbs back into his lap and takes deep breaths. His chest hurts and his throat hurts, and his fingers hurt because he’s holding Rem’s shirt in a death grip. 

“Alright,” Rem says, puffing. Then he looks up a little and raises his voice, “Snakes! Get your scaly ass over here! We’re gonna do something!”

“Why do I have to be here?” Des-Deceit grumbles, but sits down across from Rem, criss-cross with one hand propping him up and another in his lap. Ro watches in fascination as he takes off his hat with a third hand to run a fourth through his hair, then puts his hat back on and lets out his last two so he can fold his arms too. 

Rem snickers. “Because you’re the only one who knows shit about age repression, or whatever it is, and I gotta make sure I don’t fu-screw anything up too badly!” 

Ro sniffs, still upset about Rem trying to let go of him. He leans forward and grabs one of Rem’s wrists with both hands, pulling it into his lap so he can play with the fingers. 

“Regression,” Dess huffs, then raises his eyebrow a little. “Fine. If you had to guess, how old does Roman usually seem to be when he’s… regressed? How much does he understand? What does he like to do the most? I think we definitely can’t rule out anything over… seven, for right now.” He looks pointedly at Ro.

What? Ro looks up, eyes wide. Are they talking about him? He looks from Dess to Rem and frowns in confusion. 

“Um… I dunno, I haven’t been around kids in like, _ever._ Except now I have, apparently? But I don’t think that counts, ‘cause it’s just pretend- oh fuck I didn’t mean that!” Rem says hurriedly at Dess’ slight wince. “I mean, like, I don’t know about kids’ ages and shit. Like, Ro just _really_ likes cuddles, and Disney, but he always likes Disney, so I dunno. He likes playing games sometimes, and he’s a regular little competitive bi- kid! Kid! So- um, I don’t think he’s a baby? Or a toddler. Maybe four? Five? Six? I don’t kn- for fuck’s sake Dee, feel free to interrupt whenever ya know -”

“Oh, I would, but I think I’m having far too much fun watching you flounder,” Dess quips with a sly smirk. Ro ignores them. They’re not paying ‘ttention to him, so he doesn’t have to pay ‘ttention to them either! ‘Sides, he’s _busy._ He makes Rem’s fingers curl into a fist and starts uncurling them one at a time. 

Rem looks down at him briefly. “I think he’s a bit younger this time, though,” he admits. “I dunno why, it just looks like that.” His hand closes around his fingers, and Ro bursts into surprised giggles, pulling them back out and slapping Rem’s hand. He grabs Rem’s wrist again and pulls it to his mouth, but Rem pulls away so he has to bring his mouth to his hand instead. Rem’s other hand covers up his open mouth and he stops trying to eat him, pouting up at his older brother. Rem just snickers and drops his hand away.

Dess snorts and grins pointedly. “‘I dunno why’ huh? I wonder.” 

Ro’s eyes light up as Dess snaps and a pile of building blocks falls between them. There are rectangles, and squares, and circles, and pillars, and triangles, and letter cubes - and some of them are red! And green! Like him an’ Rem, he realizes ecstatically. And there’s yellow, like Dess, and blue like - like - like who? He blinks. 

“I don’t think there’s much I can tell you about it, to be honest. It’s all very individual. There are a lot of different kinds of regression. For instance, positive and negative regression. Some littles regress when they’re scared or stressed, and other littles regress when they’re happy or relaxed. Sometimes it’s a mixed bag.”

He wants to play. He wants to play, but he doesn’t want to let go of Rem! He chews on his fingers and glances between Rem and the blocks. 

“Some littles like being regressed, and others don’t. Some want caregivers - someone who takes care of them while they’re regressed, that is - and others are perfectly fine with being independent. And there are a lot of different age ranges, from infant to child to teen and even to just a younger adult. Roman is… clearly very young, right now. He might just have a very fluid headspace, or this could be closer to the norm for him.”

Rem won’t leave… right? He’s talking to Dess! N’... n’ Ro didn’t mess up yet, so he’s gonna stay, right? But what if something happens? And what if he doesn’t like him any-more? He’s gotta make sure Rem doesn’t leave. If he stays right here, if he just holds him tight enough, then Rem won’t leave, right?

“O-kay… How do you know all of that? I know you can’t read _that_ fast, Scales~”

“I’ve… done my share of research in the past. If Thomas ends up needing a coping mechanism I need to be prepared to help.”

Ro bites his finger. It’ll… it’ll be okay, right? Rem’s not gonna leave… Tentatively, he crawls out of Rem’s lap and sits down in front of the blocks, gripping Rem’s hand tightly. He uses his other hand to pick up a green block. 

Timidly, he sets it down and picks up another. Red. Ro puts it on top of the green one with a _clack._ His mouth morphs into a delighted smile. 

“Admit it, Dee-Dee~ you’re a sap!” 

“Never! You have no evidence!”

Ro lets go of Rem’s hand so he can reach forward and grab a yellow half-circle. Then he giggles, picking up a purple pillar too. 

Then Dess stands up abruptly, startling him into falling back on his bottom. “Oh shit - ” “What? What is it? Is there a -” Rem starts. “Thomas is summoning Roman!” Dess says. Ro clacks the two blocks together and giggles.

“Okay, okay, obviously we can’t let him go to Tommy-boi while he’s like this -” Rem rambles.

“I can impersonate him!” Dess suggests, eyes wide in panic. Rem stops talking and eyes him skeptically.

“Um… no offense, Dee, but I don’t think you know him well enough to be convincing.”

“Well, what don’t you suggest!”

“I’ll impersonate him!” Rem shouts gleefully, snapping his fingers. Ro startles. Where’d Rem’s mustache go? And his white streak? And wait a minute, those are _his_ clothes! Ro squints at Rem. What’s he doing? Is he playing a game? He blinks a few times and looks at Dess, then back at Rem, feeling uneasy. 

Dess shakes his head. “I think you don’t have enough of a filter to pull that off, Re.”

“What are you talking about, snake-face?” Rem asks, but his voice is lower and round, and he sounds like _him._ Ro tilts his head and crawls across the carpet to sit at Rem’s feet and look up at him. He looks down and ruffles Ro’s hair. “Don’t worry, little prince, I’m going to save our dear host from the bastardly thralls of boredom!” 

“Wait! Remus!” Dess shrieks. “You can just leave me with Roman! I’m very qualified to be a babysitter!”

Rem winks. “Oh, thank you Dee-Dee, I’ll be back quicker than a chick-a-Dee can cu-” he stumbles over himself and shouts, “NEVERMIND OKAY BYE!”

Then he sinks out, and Ro blinks at the spot in the floor where his brother disappeared. 

His mouth is slightly open in shock.

Then he _screams._

Rem’s _gone!_ He left, he _left,_ he’s gone and Ro’s alone again! He shouldn’t’ve let go, he ruined evy-thing and Rem hates him! Rem hates him! Oh no, Rem _hates_ him - he doesn’t want Rem to hate him, what did he do!? He wants Rem! Where did he go!? Ro bursts into tears, screaming and crying, smacking the blocks away and grabbing his hair to yank on it. 

He sobs, curling into a fetal position. Then he realizes that he’s not screaming anymore, and if he’s not screaming anymore then maybe Rem will think he’s not upset anymore and he _is_ so he gets to his hands and knees and swipes the blocks again, scattering them across the floor and screaming again. 

Someone tries to hold his arms, but Ro shoves them back and wails, scrambling away from them and looking around desperately for Rem. He _doesn’t find him,_ he’s not _here,_ he’s gone he’s gone he’s _gone and he’s never coming back -_

He screams and claws at his skin, _too cold too_ **_cold_ ** _too_ **_COLD_ **\- 

“REM!” he wails, voice tearing out of his throat and ending in sobs. 

He’s so _cold-_

Rem’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone - Ro messed up, he did something wrong he _knows it,_ or else Rem wouldn’t be gone and he’d be warm but he’s _cold,_ it’s so _cold_ and he wants Rem! 

Cold, cold, cold, cold cold coldcoldcold - 

Warm.

He peels his eyes open, gasping and sniffling between sobs. 

...Rem?

But… Rem doesn’t have six arms.

Or scales. 

Or an evil bowl hat.

He’s about to start crying again, but then he sees the must-ash. 

He doesn’t know why Rem’s p’tending to be Dess, but he doesn’t care. It’s warm, and he wants hugs, so he launches forward and latches onto Rem. He’s _never_ letting go, _never again,_ he doesn’t like being cold and alone and _bad._

Rem hugs him back after a moment, with all six arms, and it’s even more warm. It washes over him, soothing his distress. 

He’s never letting go again.

A long time passes, but he doesn’t care. Even if there are a _hundred billion_ blocks, he’s _never_ **_never_ ** _gonna let go again._

But then he hears a small _pop,_ and Rem starts laughing.

But… he looks up, and Rem isn’t laughing, he’s blushing and his mouth is shut. 

He looks around, and there’s Rem! He’s got a green shirt and black pants and a white streak and a must-ash and he’s laughing at - 

Wait. He looks at Rem. Then at the other Rem. 

…two Rems?

“Did you - did you - seriously put on a - just so he’d hug you?” Rem snickers.

“SSShut up! He was having a breakdown, this is the only thing I could come up with!” Rem - …Dess? hisses in embarrassment. Ro whines in confusion and dissatisfaction and pulls out of Dess’ hug. He holds up his arms for Rem, and when his older brother picks him up, he wraps his arms and legs tightly around him and buries his face in his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, we are not doing this again - "


	23. Clover Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some Separation Anxiety, Very Mild Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating a bit late, I slept in... heh
> 
> So, separation anxiety is described as when someone is very scared whenever someone else leaves because they're terrified of something will happen to them. Do you think it also counts as separation anxiety if they're worried the other person hates them? Or is that better classified as 'abandonment issues'?

“I’m sure this is a  _ brilliant  _ idea, Remus,” Dess snarks, sighing and running one hand down his face and another through his hair. Ro pokes his tongue through his teeth and giggles. Rem’s carrying him again  _ (good good no letting go)  _ and they’re all going on an ad-ven-ture in the ‘Magination! That’s what Rem says, and there’s a big bright green swirly-portal in front of them. 

“Bring the child into the side of the Imagination ruled by the Duke of Dark Creativity, where he  _ definitely  _ won’t be traumatized in the  _ least,  _ and hey, of course let’s bring Deceit too - I’m sure he has nothing better to do at  _ all.” _

“Oh come  _ on,  _ Dee-Dee!” Rem whines. “I’m not gonna  _ traumatize  _ him! I’ve got kid-friendly places too you know!”

Ro looks at him and then at Dess and nods enthusiastically, bouncing a little. “Yeah yeah yeah!”

Dess closes his eyes and sighs again. “Remus. You are the embodiment of  _ literally  _ everything  _ not  _ kid-friendly, try again.”

The green portal shrinks away with a  _ pop! _ when Rem snaps, and Ro’s shoulders droop disappointedly. He wanted to go to the ‘Magination! He pointedly looks away from Dess and pouts. “Fiiine, we’ll use Ro’s portal!”

“How are you-”

A new portal appears this time, and it’s  _ red!  _ Ro lights up, eagerly looking back and forth from his older brother to Dess. Can they go  _ this _ time? That’s his portal! All shiny and red! And he has  _ lots and lots  _ of things he wants to show Rem! Like, like his castle and his for-est and OH and his wis-wishing well! 

“Okay let’s go!” Rem shouts. 

“Yeah yeah! I can s’ow you all my places! P’ease?” he asks, eyes wide and eyebrows lifted in worry that Dess’s gonna say no. He really  _ really  _ wants to show Rem!

Dess sighs again and shrugs, snapping two fingers on one hand to con-jur up his capelet. “I give up. Fine, let’s go. At least Roman’s Imagination won’t actively try to kill us.”

When the red washes over them and Roman’s eyes blink away the haze, his lungs slowly fill with clear, subtly fragrant air and excitement. The sun is almost to the middle of the cloudy blue sky. It’s a little cold, but not much. And they’re on a hill overlooking a meadow filled with tall grass and flowers, and there’s a glittering lake, with a flock of ducks in it and trees feeding from it with lush green leaves.

For a moment, he remembers making it, doing hours of research to get the environment just right so that it wouldn’t get unbalanced and change into something he didn’t want. Checking up on it every few weeks and correcting the little mistakes - forgetting a little beetle species, making too many owls, putting the wrong kind of algae in the lake. Roman remembers the feeling of pride welling up in his chest as he stood on this hill and drew a sketch of the landscape in his sketchbook. 

He went stargazing in this field, and got a dozen mosquito bites that itched for  _ weeks.  _ He fought a golem here, nearly drowned while learning how to swim. He buried his favorite knife under one of the trees and could never find it again, but it was broken at the hilt so he doesn’t mind so much. 

Then his excitement takes over and he wriggles out of Rem’s arms, grabbing his hand and racing down the hill. This’ll be so fun!

* * *

Ro picks up another rock and throws it in the lake with both hands, splashing water up with a  _ galunk  _ and further drenching his shirt. He giggles, then gets up, a little wobbly, and looks around his feet for another stone. There! He picks up the dark gray, smooth rock and throws it at the water. He flaps his hands happily.

Behind him, sitting by a tree, Dess groans and whines, “Remusss!” 

He hears Rem laugh. Rem’s in the tree, climbing really really high! “Whaaat, Snakey?”

“He’ss jusst ssso  _ cute, what do I do!?” _ Dess whines dramatically. Ro pushes out his bottom lip and calls out stubbornly, “I’s  _ not  _ cute!” He’s a prince! He’s the handsomest prince in all the land, he can’t be  _ cute,  _ that’s dumb! Rem bursts into laughter and he huffs. 

Ro’s done throwing rocks in the lake now. He wants to make flower crowns instead! Rem’s gonna be  _ so  _ impressed. He learned how all by himself, and he’s the best flowers crown maker in ever! Ro turns around and trips, banging his knee and scraping his hands on the rocks. His lip trembles, and then his eyes fill with tears. He sits back on his butt and sniffles, looking at his stinging red hands in distress. 

Then Rem hurries over and scoops him up, cradling him in his arms. “Are you okay? No, no don’t cry you’re okay! I promise! Do you wanna go sit with Dee? Or - um, I can give you bandaids? That’s a thing right? I usually don’t do anything but I guess kids are different- at least in the movies and stuff, is that just a stereotype? Or- uh, I’m just gonna shut up now.” 

Ro shakes his head. He’s okay now. It hurts, but he’s got Rem, and it’s already starting to feel better! ‘Sides, he’s a prince, an’ princes don’t cry. “M’ okay,” he says, sniffling and rubbing his face with his hands. Then he grins. “I wanna make flower crowns!”

Rem sighs in relief and asks, “Is it alright if I put you down then?”

“Uh-huh,” Ro nods, running for the field as soon as Rem lets him down. He beams when he finds a patch of clover, deciding that clover crowns are better than flower crowns, ‘specially ‘cause Rem’s color is green! 

* * *

“Ro! Dee made lunch!” Rem shouts. 

He looks up from his drawing in the mud. Lunch? Okay! He picks up his pile of clover crowns and gets up, hurrying to the tree. 

Rem’s hanging upside down in the tree by his tentacles with a sandwich in his hands. One of his other tentacles is waving around his mace absently. Dess’s sitting on a tree root with two sandwiches, both on their own plate, in his hands. 

Ro runs up to Rem and hooks three clover crowns over the waving mace and then drops the other two on the rim of Dess’s hat.

Dess holds out one plate. “This isn’t for you, Roman.” He blinks. Dess groans, running a hand down his face. “Curse your adorable ignorance,” he mutters. Then he says, “I mean, it  _ is  _ for you.”

“Okay!” Ro takes the plate and immediately sits down, picking up the sandwich with both hands and taking a big bite. 

* * *

Vaguely, Ro knows that he’s being carried. He’s sleepy. Weren’t… weren’t they watching the sun set…? 

“Admit it, Dee-Dee. You like little Ro,” Rem says quietly, laughing a little.

Dess huffs. “No proof,” he says back indignantly, just as quietly.

Ro slips away again.

* * *

_ Conceal don’t feel, _

_ Don’t let them know -  _

_ Well now they know! _

_ Let it go, let it go, _

_ Can’t hold it back anymore- _

“I don’t know! He’s never been like this for longer than a few hours!” 

_ Let it go, let it go, _

_ Turn away and slam the door! _

“Okay, okay, I guess just… wait it out, then.”

_ I don’t care _

_ What they’re going to say _

_ Let the storm rage on! _

_ The cold never bothered me anyway~ _

“Alright,”

Ro doesn’t know why Rem and Dess are arguing. But he’s laying down in Rem’s lap and it’s so  _ warm,  _ and his eyes keep blinking closed every time he tries to keep them open.

_ It’s funny how some distance _

_ Makes everything seem small _

_ And the fears that once controlled me _

_ Can’t catch me at all! _

He slowly falls asleep.

* * *

“It’s Thursday!” Rem exclaims, jolting Ro out of sleep. What? What’s going on? He whines and buries his head in a blanket.

“...Okay…? What does ‘Thursday’ mean?” Dess asks.

“Thursday means our dear old Logic’s got a meeting with Ro-Bro to go over ideas!” Rem shouts manically, bouncing around the room.

“Okay, we are  _ not  _ doing this again - ” Dess starts. “I do not want to wear a mustache again!”

“Maybe if we tell him I’m leaving?” Rem tries, and Ro’s fully awake at that.  _ CAN’T LEAVE no no no you can’t leave STAY STAY stay don’t leave!  _ He sits up and crawls out of Rem’s bed, pulling away from the blankets and latching desperately onto his older brother. 

“Don’t leave don’t leave you can’t leave!” he cries.  _ No no no no can’t leave please please don’t leave me don’t leave me please-  _

“I’ll only be gone for an hour, I promise!” Rem assures hurriedly.  _ NO NO NO -  _ “I’ll be back in an hour, I’m not leaving forever but I hafta go or Logie’s gonna wonder where you are!”

“...Only an hour?” Ro asks, sniffing back his snot as tears slip down his face. 

“Promise, Ro,” he says firmly.

He… he lets go, reluctantly, and shrinks back as Rem snaps into his outfit and sinks out.  _ Only an hour, only an hour, he promised he promised he’s not leaving forever - only an hour only- but what if he’s lying? What if he just wants to get rid of me?? What if he’s never coming back!?  _

He turns around and wraps his arms tightly around Dess, whimpering. “He promised he promised only an hour,” he whispers.

“Only an hour…” Dess sighs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But he doesn't - he doesn't -


	24. Epiphanies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some Separation Anxiety/Abandonment Issues, Referenced Drinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to say something but I forgot - 
> 
> Now I've been here for half an hour - 
> 
> Help

Ro doesn’t want to let go of Dess. 

Rem’s gone, he’s gone, he’s coming back he  _ promised. _ But he doesn’t - he doesn’t - he can’t be  _ alone.  _ He doesn’t wanna be alone, he wants to be warm and Dess’s warm so he doesn’t wanna let go of Dess. He can wait, right? Only an hour… an hour. He can just stay here the whole time and he doesn’t have to be cold! 

Being cold would make him miss Rem even more.

So he clings to Dess tightly, eyes squeezed shut, nearly hyperventilating while he tries to be okay with the knowledge that  _ Rem isn’t here anymore.  _ Dess smells like books and flowers. Rem smells like the ocean and mud. Ro wants the ocean. He doesn’t want flowers, he wants the earth, but Rem’s  _ gone  _ so that’s all he has.

“Roman,” Dess says. He looks up, vision blurred. Dess doesn’t look back at him. “Can we move somewhere else?” he asks drily. “Not all of us are built to stand in one place for extended periods of time with a large child trapping us in place.”

His face twists, upset. Dess doesn’t like him. He sobs, but pulls away, hugging himself tightly. It’s cold, cold cold cold, he  _ hates  _ being cold but Dess doesn’t wanna hold him. 

“How about we watch a movie until Remus gets back?” the older side suggests after a moment. 

Ro nods hesitantly, looking at the floorboards. They’re kind of warped and some of them are greenish. Dess holds out his hand -  _ his hand his hand he’s letting me touch him!  _ \- and Ro takes it eagerly, an explosion of warmth radiating from it. 

Dess leads him out of Rem’s room  _ (how will he know how to find us, what if he gives up, what if we get lost, what if he doesn’t care)  _ and to the living room.

When Dess lets go of his hand to get the remote, the abrupt cold and stiff air is enough to yank him out of his nervous, floaty haze. 

Roman blinks. Then he’s dizzy, and he stumbles backwards to sit down heavily on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut at the resulting headache. It’s familiar, regrettably - the feeling when he’s summoned in the middle of an episode of Steven Universe when he’s just starting to relax, the feeling when he almost falls asleep during a movie night but someone says something and he remembers he’s not alone. 

Speaking of not alone - 

“What movie don’t you-  _ do  _ you want to watch? Something Disney, presumably,” Deceit says smoothly, sitting down next to him without much deliberation. Roman notices that he’s wearing a yellow turtleneck sweater and black slacks, as well as his usual bowler hat. All six of his arms are out, which is not really unsettling because he sort of remembers seeing that before, and his two-colored eyes are looking at him, an eyebrow raised expectantly and lips quirked up a little.

Roman hunches his shoulders and looks down.  _ Remus said Deceit isn’t bad. I…  _ **_I_ ** _ don’t think Deceit is bad… and Remus said that Deceit just uses sarcasm a lot, so I shouldn’t take anything at face value. _

He doesn’t particularly want to have a conversation with Deceit right now. So he just shrugs and pulls his legs up on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest in an effort to soothe his anxiety about this situation. He doesn’t remember much about the last two days, or the last month if he’s being honest with himself, but he does know that they’re waiting for Remus to come back from… somewhere. 

When he racks his brain for an explanation, Roman thinks that maybe Remus is… impersonating him? Yeah, he’s pretty sure he remembers that. But why? He feels his heart jump a little. His meeting with Logan. Remus is impersonating him to deliver his ideas to Logan because… why is he impersonating him? 

Deceit’s put on The Jungle Book. Roman blanks out at the screen, nervousness thrumming in his chest. Why’s Deceit being so… normal? He’s just sitting next to him, leaning back on the couch, relaxed but a little bit tense at the same time. And if Roman focuses, he’s slowly starting to remember the last couple days. 

Needless to say… his opinion of Deceit is shifting. 

Again.

Roman’s never liked being wrong.  _ Especially  _ when the only reason he’s wrong is because he was right in the first place but someone else “corrected” him. He doesn’t have the energy right now to be upset, though. He’s tired. Exhausted. Thinking back on… recent events, he’s pretty sure he knows why. 

Lying is wrong. Deceit is wrong. 

But… well… even villains have to have some redeeming qualities. It just so happens that Deceit’s is that he’s nicer than… than he seems. After all, he hasn’t made fun of him, or anything. Hasn’t twisted up his… poorly formed words. Hasn’t confused him so much that he doesn’t know what’s real or not. Maybe that’s because Remus is Deceit’s best friend, and Remus wouldn’t be happy if he was mean to Roman.

Isn’t that a thought? Roman… honestly never thought that he’d ever think that sentence. But it feels like a… good kind of weird. Remus… cares about him. He does. Roman nearly ruined everything forever, but somehow he didn’t, and… and he still has a brother. And Remus cares about him enough to be mad at his  _ best friend  _ for hurting him.

_ How many epiphanies can a side have in one day before they just explode?  _ Roman wonders drily. 

“I’m BAAACK~!” calls a familiar voice, cartwheeling out of the hall and posing dramatically in the entrance to the living room. Roman’s lips twitch upwards and he feels some of the tension drain from his shoulders. 

Deceit sighs heavily in relief and stands up. “Thank the lord for that. Roman’s been very quiet the whole time, and to be  _ honessst,”  _ he hisses, laughing, then stopping too soon. “It was totally not starting to worry me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a glass of wine and try to forget whatever today has been.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. 

Deceit sighs. “Fine. No wine.” 

“Swear?” Remus presses.

“I swear,” Deceit replies solemnly. 

Roman watches their exchange. Suddenly, he remembers -  _ “He’s gonna get plastered, I’d bet my ass on it.”  _ Time to another epiphany to the list, he supposes, huffing a laugh in his mind. 

Then his stomach growls, and he’s suddenly very aware of how hungry he is. He stands up, and a sudden worry makes him go to Remus and hug him tightly to make sure that he’s really here, but then he pulls back and says, “Can we eat?”

“Sure!” Remus agrees easily, immediately turning to Deceit and asking, “Can we eat?”

Deceit snorts. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll go make some dinner. You can have granola while you’re waiting.”

“Aww, man, but I wanted to try my newest flavor of deodorant Dee!” Remus complains. Roman wrinkles his nose in disgust (not amusement, definitely not amusement). 

“I know as well as you that it’s just marshmallow,” Deceit counters immediately, as though he’s made that same counterpoint dozens of times before. Suddenly Roman’s a lot more appreciative of his twin’s tastes.

He does end up eating granola while he watches Deceit move around the kitchen, putting his six arms to good use by being able to carry multiple ingredients at once and chopping up vegetables very efficiently. He doesn’t talk much, mostly because he doesn’t know what he’d say, but also because he’s just… absorbing everything. It’s felt like so long since he had anyone care about him, even if it’s just been a month, that… it’s hard to believe that this is actually happening. 

As it turns out, Deceit’s making soup. Tomato soup. And it smells absolutely  _ delicious  _ and tastes even better. The only thing keeping him from shoveling the soup down his throat like a starving wolf is the fact that he’s busy watching Remus guzzle it down like it’s a bowl of soda (not the weirdest thing) and not a bowl of scalding soup. 

Roman wonders when he stopped coming down to dinners with the others. 

Probably a little after Virgil’s acceptance. It… it was hard to face the emo, knowing that he’d been so… unprincely towards him for no reason except that he’s different. But… when the guilt from that faded, his reasoning changed. 

He just doesn’t like it. He may be an actor but it’s still not fun to play the same role every day of your life. 

“Slow down Remus, save some seconds for Roman,” Deceit chides, and Remus flushes, dropping the ladle back in the pot and finishing off his fourth bowl of soup, setting it down and not getting another. 

Roman feels a little bit shy as he pushes his empty bowl towards the pot, looking at Deceit hopefully. The scaled side chuckles and fills up his bowl again, and Roman pulls it back to himself, taking a newly warmed spoonful of soup to his mouth. 

“Did you know that octopus blood is light blue?” Remus asks. “I wonder if - ”

“Not in front of the child, Remus,” Deceit interrupts, but his smile betrays his amusement.

...Child?

_ “ - regresses back to a childlike state of mind - ” _

_ “ - how old you are?” _

_ “Regression.” _

Oh. It has a name? So when he’s… he’s really… 

...and they think he’s… regressed… right now…? 

Roman blinks. _Well. That’s what, five epiphanies in one day?_ _That’s gotta be a record or something._ He almost smiles at that thought. He doesn’t really like sudden realizations, but… well, he has to admit it’s at least a little bit funny. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does he have to be here? Can't he just -


	25. Speaking and Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Unintentionally Toxic Friends, Toxic Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to have to try an even larger time skip soon - you know why ;)
> 
> (Also, like, this story? 25 chapters? Over 40000 words?? So many people like it??? I can't even - just - how? I'm not exactly focusing on the main plot here, in fact there's not much plot? Ack I should probably work on that - )

“Alright, so, Ro’s still regressed,” Remus says, when dinner’s over, and Deceit’s just getting started on the dishes. Roman’s still sitting in his chair - now that he’s taking the time to notice, the chairs (there are four of them) are all a few inches taller than the ones in the light side - and he’s not really doing it right. Okay, so he has no explanation for why he’s sitting criss-cross in the chair, but it’s comfortable for some reason so he doesn’t care. 

“It would seem that way,” Deceit says back over his shoulder. 

Roman remembers what they’re talking about. He wonders what makes them think he’s still, um, regressed. _(That’s gonna take some getting used to.)_ Is it because he’s not talking? Or because he’s sitting funny? Or because he’s so tired that he can’t keep his face from being anything but soft? ...That’s probably it.

“It’s never been this long before. How do we… get him out of it? Wait, is it bad if we _make_ him un-regress? Help me Dee-Dee!” Remus whines, draping himself over the counter like it’s a fainting couch. 

Deceit glances behind him, setting a newly dry bowl on the counter by the sink. “It depends on the regressor. Maybe you can just… ask him to try to stop?”

Roman shifts to look at Remus again, following the conversation with the barest amount of interest. He’s _exhausted._ Remus turns his head towards him and sits up a little, throwing out a hand as though dramatically telling him to go on without him. It doesn’t quite fit the topic, but well, it’s _Remus._ “Ro! Ro-Ro! Romano! Do you wanna be an adult now? You can do fun things like _adult_ things, and have _adult_ dreams, and -” he groans, dropping his hand and sighing dramatically. “You know what, I am not making this better am I?”

“No, of course you are, I’m sure the child absolutely wants to have _‘adult dreams’_ and do _‘adult things’_ because that is _so_ appealing,” Deceit snides. “We should teach him how to pick locks. That way, his brain will start working more and he’ll be back to normal just as he realizes what he’s been doing and how ‘morally incorrect’ lock-picking is, but he’ll already know and so it’ll be too late.”

Roman… _thinks_ he’s being sarcastic? But he sounds genuine… But he’s always sounded genuine! To him, at least. And Remus said that those times weren’t! As Remus snickers, Roman decides that it’s… fifty-fifty. He has no way of knowing if that’s an actual suggestion or not, and at least it’s not… _too_ nefarious… right? After all, lock-picking can be very useful! And obviously he wouldn’t ever use it to accomplish evil deeds.

But it sounds like Deceit is trying to corrupt his regressed self…? Roman blinks and grimaces a little, blinking again and letting it drop. He decides not to think much of it unless Deceit actually… attempts to do that. 

“Maybe we can wait it out? If I have to impersonate him one more time I might just explode, seriously, those fuckers are like… the worst,” Remus complains. “At least Logan’s just boring, the others literally brush Roman off _all the time.”_

Roman leans back in his chair and looks at the ceiling. (It’s not really _that_ bad.) Well, they do… end up… never really doing anything with him unless it’s with his Creativity. They don’t listen to him when he’s advocating for his Passion, Romance, or Dreams, and he doesn’t even _mention_ his Pride. (But they still… listen, they just know better than to actually do it.) _Is_ it that bad? **(No. It’s not. Patton is Morality and Morality is never wrong - )** _(except about Remus)_ **( - so Morality is never** ** _bad.)_**

“What do you mean?” he hears Deceit ask.

Remus groans. “Like, when Thomas summoned him the other day, he wanted Roman to help him help a couple of his friends have a good date or whatever. And so I was getting ready to vomit dramatic romantic advice but then Virgey showed up and then, of course, everyone else showed up too - and it wasn’t the fun kind of party, but with how much they were arguing like chickens with their heads cut off you’d totally think it was! Patton ended up doing the whole thing, and then that was that! Like, not even a _word_ of what I said got through!” he rants, summoning a pencil halfway through just so he can snap it.

“Then today at that meeting with the nerd, he said Roman needs to ‘do better’ now. He was all like, ‘I know you haven’t been at your best’ and ‘it’s okay if we need to take a break’ but then he was all like, ‘but Thomas has a career dependant on his Creativity’ and _ugh,_ just, I get that Roman’s good at pretending to be okay but alright, don’t they know him at _all?_ He’s not just gonna let Thomas’ career do the flop off a cliff! He’s _literally_ Thomas’ hopes and dreams, he’s the whole reason Thomas has been successful!”

Roman bites the inside of his cheek and doesn’t try to think about that. _My ego is big enough as it is,_ he laughs internally. His internal voice sounds a bit too much like Virgil for his comfort.

“And it’s not even a _recent_ thing. I’ve told you how little he sees the others, like, he spends all of his time in his room unless it’s meetings or movie nights or someone needs him! And the number of times he’s gone into their commons with a fucking broken bone or some shit from the Imagination - they don’t even _bat an eye,_ apparently! Logan mentioned Roman’s lack of injuries recently and asked if he’s _okay,_ like, what. The fuck.” Remus hisses. Deceit has long since finished the dishes and now he’s facing Remus, a disgusted frown on his face. “How is _not being injured_ synonymous with Roman being _not_ okay!? And even before then! Before the whole fucking courtroom disaster!” Deceit flinches a little. “They never cared! I’m pretty sure that I was the fucking _first_ and _only_ to ever actually help him without expecting him to be _just fine_ afterwards!”

Does he have to be here? Can’t he just - no, no, he should stay. It’s not like anything’s waiting for him. 

It’s just that - he doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to think about it. The lights are _good,_ they just - they don’t have to care about him! They _don’t!_ Roman isn’t _worth_ worrying about, he’s the _prince,_ he’s the thick-skulled idiot, he’s the Ambition and the Motivation and the Passion and the Creativity, he’s _important,_ but that doesn’t mean that they have to pander to his every want and whimsy. They are good. He’s trying, he’s always trying so _fucking much,_ but he’s just short of good - and of course they don’t want to care about someone who’s _almost_ good enough, they want to care about someone who’s actually fucking worth it!

Roman stops leaning back in his chair, the front two legs hitting the tile with a _clack._

“ - and you know what!? After crushing all of his dreams, no one checked up on him, even though he tried to fucking -!”

“Remus,” Roman cuts him off. Remus’ jaw shuts with a click and he looks back at him with an expression that says _“Fine. I won’t. But I’m not sorry.”_

Deceit looks at him consideringly. 

Roman stands up. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, pushing in his chair quietly. Then he shakes his head. “It’s not - it’s really not like that. They don’t care about me because I don’t let them. I’m not -” _I’m not good enough._ He looks away. “Thanks. For dinner. It’s… Thursday, right?” Deceit nods slowly. He nods back. “Alright. It’s late. Tomorrow I have to attend the li- the oth- Tomorrow I’m going to movie night. Remus, can we meet up Saturday?” His voice goes a little small for his question. He’s only _just_ got his twin back, he doesn’t know if… if he’s overdoing anything. 

“Sure,” Remus replies, lips quirking up a little and a hint of his usual excitement glinting in his eyes. He winks. “You can bet your ass on it!”

Roman can tell that he’s not forgetting about the conversation, but he thinks he’s okay with that. He nods, smiling gratefully. “Great! So, um, thanks for… whatever this was. See you later!”

He rises up in his room. Immediately, he slams a hand over his eyes at the sudden brightness, using his other to yank the curtains shut. Then he snaps and the Hunger Games soundtrack begins to play as he takes off his shirt and crawls into bed. 

…Maybe Remus is rubbing off on him. Just a little.

He checks the clock on his nightstand. _4:12 PM._ It’s certainly an… early night, for him, but he’s fucking exhausted. He’s not staying up longer, even if it fucks up his sleep schedule - _ha,_ sleep schedule - he hasn’t had a _sleep schedule_ in, like, almost a _year._ He’s very bad at going to sleep on time.

Roman runs through the last few days in his head, just to make sure that he’s not forgetting anything important. _I’ve got Remus back, Deceit is evil but like, he’s nice, so I’m not sure what that’s about; apparently I’m an age regressor; Remus impersonated me twice and I should probably apologize to the others without telling them it wasn’t me; movie night is tomorrow; and Remus is popping in on Saturday._

It’s… too good to be true. Surely, _surely,_ there’s something he’s missed - But… he can’t think of anything. Maybe that’s just the exhaustion speaking. He burrows further into his bed and closes his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman flinches. Of course, it wasn't him -


	26. Useful and Helpful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Unintentionally Toxic Friends, Unintentional Psychological/Emotional Abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, yep, I actually had to go and watch about three different movies to try and find one that fit the mood of this chapter, doing school at the same time, and also I had to do some research on the effects of psychological manipulation while trying not to get distracted-
> 
> Needless to say I am Suffering (jk I love writing it's worth it)
> 
> Also, does anyone know good writing music? I've been listening to the same playlist about fifty or so times now so yeah I need something new.

Roman makes his way downstairs, chin tilted up and shoulders back, steps sure and pace confident. He’s smiling, nearly grinning, and there’s a certain buzzing energy in him that’s impossible not to see. It’s funny, really, because it’s all a lie. He’s very,  _ very  _ tired right now, even though he slept for… fourteen hours? Logan would probably be able to explain why, but he’s not about to tell the nerd that he’s not sleeping properly.

He bounces into the commons and sings, “Greetings! Your prince has come~!”

The others are just getting situated, Logan sitting by the arm of the couch and Virgil on the floor this time, while Patton’s sitting down with a bowl of popcorn. When he declares his entrance, they all glance up, except for Patton, who jumps up with a bright smile on his face and squeals, “Roman! You’re here!”

“Of course!” he assures, brushing it off with a dazzling grin. “I would have told you if I wasn’t coming, padre!”

Patton smiles and sits back down, settling into his seat with a wiggle. “Alrighty, then, mighty mouse! Can we watch Piglet’s Big Movie today? I’m just in a Winnie the Pooh sort of mood, you know?”

“Why’re you asking him?” Virgil grumbles, rolling his eyes and snatching a handful of popcorn from Patton’s bowl. “He doesn’t have a monopoly on what movies we watch.” Roman feels a twinge of hurt, but he knows Virgil’s right, so he doesn’t call him out on it. 

“Well,” Patton starts, in his somewhat more paternal tone still filled to bubbling with pep and enthusiasm, “Roman’s been in charge of choosing the movies for movie night for six years now! It’s tradition!”

Roman flushes, heart fluttering. It’s not  _ exactly  _ praise, but coming from Patton, hearing that he’s… an important part of a long-lasting tradition is… very reassuring. His smile turns a little more genuine, and he decides to sit on the beanbag by the couch this time. When he sits down, he nearly collapses in relief, but he doesn’t. 

“Alright, Piglet’s Big Movie it is!” he says, grabbing the remote from the arm of the couch and clicking it on. He doesn’t have to search for it - they’re imaginary, so he just clicks a button and it starts playing. Virgil settles back, and Logan sets down his Agatha Christie novel. He curls up a little, pulling his legs up onto the beanbag and holding them loosely with his arms.

It’s barely fifteen minutes in when he realizes that this… might not be the best movie for him to watch right now. 

_ “Congratulations to us all!” _

_ “Hoohoohoohoo! Hooray for Pooh!” _

_ “Aaand Rabbit!” _

_ “And Eeyore!” _

_ “And Tigger too.” _

_ “But- but I was th-” _

_ “Oh, Piglet. I’m sorry that you couldn’t be part of our big plan,” _

_ “Oh… but I thought I - ” _

Piglet cuts himself off. Roman flinches. Of course, it wasn’t him - it wasn’t  _ him,  _ so it’s not like it should  _ matter _ \- and it’s a stupid (not stupid not stupid) kid’s show! It’s  _ Winnie the Pooh  _ for fuck’s sake! It’s not supposed to  _ hurt.  _ But - to him, the way that Piglet is just… brushed off, ignored, treated like he’s less-than, is just… all too familiar.

_ “Oh dear. Even my shadow is small…”  _

He bites his lip as the song begins. Immediately, he realizes that this is going to hit way too hard for him, so he pulls up the hood of his onesie and shifts so that he’s facing away from the others. Still present, still able to see the screen, but no one’s going to be able to see it if he starts crying. 

_ It’s not as if I want to rule the world _

_ Or even the forest _

_ Or even one tree _

_ I suppose I could be happy _

_ If I could just be helpful _

_ With just a little bit of noticing me _

Oh shit.  _ Shit shit shit. _ He discreetly brings his hand to his face to rub away the single tear that’s already made its way down his face.  _ Stop it, stop it, it’s a kid’s movie it’s not supposed to make you  _ **_cry._ **

Well. 

Then he thinks about regression.  _ Isn’t  _ he a kid? At least some of the time? Doesn’t that mean he’s allowed to be impacted by childish things? (No, no, that’s not an excuse, everyone can be impacted by any medium, even Logan said so!) 

_ I’d be useful and helpful _

_ The one you would call _

_ Can I walk around my shadow _

_ Once before it disappears into the sun _

_ Run circles around the bees _

_ Bring the heffalump to his knees _

_ Catch the pollen before the sneeze _

_ I’d be needed _

_ And useful _

_ More each passing day- _

Roman’s crying, silently. With every hopeful dream Piglet has of being needed, it reminds him of his own dreams of being loved. (He knows he’s not. It doesn’t make him want it any less.) He can’t help projecting. He really can’t, and it hurts so bad because it’s all  _ right there,  _ that’s how he feels, except instead of optimism about being useful and needed and helpful if he just does one thing - he feels the crushing of the realization that there’s nothing he can do. 

Then the stories start. 

They’re all stories of Piglet being useful, being  _ helpful,  _ in fact - being  _ vital.  _ And the others brushing him off and congratulating their own successes without even acknowledging anything that Piglet has done. 

Roman knows he’s important. He knows that no matter how stupid and illogical and fanciful he is, he’s Thomas’ Creativity. Without him, Thomas wouldn’t be  _ Thomas.  _ He wouldn’t have YouTube, would never have had Vine, would never have made the friends that he’s made, would never have won so many awards, would never be  _ him.  _ Maybe Remus could’ve done some of that. But Roman knows that Remus would’ve preferred some more… “interesting” forms of film, and no matter how much he loves his brother he knows that’s not what Thomas wants.

But… 

None of them ever say it. They call him stupid. And useless. Say his head’s in the clouds, that he’s too busy dreaming to see reality. They say he doesn’t understand anxiety, or morality, or logic. They’re right! Obviously they’re right, Morality’s always right, but he… he has that too. He has reasoning. And morals. And he’s downright  _ terrified  _ a lot of the time. 

He just… wishes that maybe they’d… appreciate him? Notice him?  Love him?

Oh, who’s he kidding? He doesn’t deserve any of that. He’s not like Piglet. It’s not the same, because - because - well, he doesn’t know why but it’s not! Because it has to be. They can’t - they’re  _ good.  _ And… and they don’t make mistakes like that. 

He can’t do this.  _ He can’t fucking do this.  _

Roman rubs his face again and stands up, putting his acting skills to good use - yet again - to smile as he heads to the kitchen. The movie is nearly over, there’s half an hour left, but he knows he’s not going to be able to keep his crying silent when the group finds Piglet and tells him that he’s worth something - because he  _ knows  _ that will never happen, not for him. 

He splashes some water on his face from the kitchen sink and holds a rag to his face to dry it. Then he starts making popcorn, if only for an excuse to stay here and not have to watch. They probably won’t even notice he’s missing.

...Heh. 

Roman rejoins the others as the movie ends. None of them ask why he left - they don’t seem to think anything’s off. So he just says, “Good choice, Patton! That was a good one! What should we watch next?”

“Nightmare Before Christmas,” Virgil says, at the same time as Patton, who says, “Christopher Robin! Might as well keep it going, right?” 

It’s a good thing that Logan chooses to suggest Doctor Who because Roman definitely doesn’t think he can handle either of those. If they’re surprised by his siding with Logan over  _ not  _ choosing Disney, they don’t seem to think much of it, just tease him and laugh and ask if he’s sure he’s okay. (And that doesn’t hurt. Really.)

The rest of the movie night is okay, he supposes. In reality, his thoughts are still lingering on the first movie, and the… melancholic feelings that it’s bringing him to think about the happy ending he didn’t see but  _ knows  _ was there, that he will never get himself.

Although… then he thinks, hasn’t he already gotten his happy ending? It’s not quite an ending,  _ definitely  _ not an ending - but he’s happy, isn’t he? He has Remus. He has his  _ brother,  _ for the first time since they were kids! He’s not - he’s not self-harming anymore, he’s not… well, he’s slowly starting to stop being suicidal, and sure everyone else hates him - except Logan, but Roman’s still mad at him - but he’s got  _ Remus.  _ And Remus cares about him. And there aren’t any meaningless apologies, there aren’t any  _ expectations,  _ he doesn’t have to act around him and that is  _ everything  _ that he’s ever wanted.

So… why isn’t it enough. 

It should be enough.

Roman wants to talk to Logan. He wants to talk for hours and hours, about whatever catches his fancy, and he wants to listen to Logan talk about his interests. He wants to be  _ friends.  _ He wants Logan to say he’s proud of him. He wants Logan to be worried about him when he gets hurt. He wants Logan to stand up for him and stand up for Remus and he wants Logan to hug him.

He wants Virgil to like him. He wants to watch conspiracy theories with him at three in the morning, painting each other’s nails and snickering at stupid things. He wants to know for sure if their banter is okay, if it’s hurtful or if he should back off. He wants Virgil to know that his insults hurt. He wants Virgil to help him out of flashbacks and he wants Virgil to look at him and  _ smile  _ instead of grimace or roll his eyes.

He wants Patton to -

He wants Patton to say he’s okay. He wants Patton to stop saying that he’s doing something wrong. He wants Patton to -

To leave him alone.

Roman’s eyes fall from the screen to his hands. Surely he can’t mean that? Doesn’t he want to spend time with Patton? Doesn’t he like baking with him? Doesn’t he like movie nights and board games? Doesn’t he want Patton to take care of him when he’s sick and love him and doesn’t he want Patton to give him a hug?

(He doesn’t. Does he.)

He’s just… he’s always so scared around Patton. Anxious. Stiff. He’s always acting the most around Patton, because Patton is Morality and Morality is never wrong and he doesn’t want Morality to decide that he’s not good enough anymore. He doesn’t know if there’s any way he can enjoy himself around Patton without feeling like every step he takes and every move he makes is going to decide whether or not he’s a good person. 

That night Roman goes to sleep numbly. He just wants… so much. Perks of being Hopes and Dreams and Desires, huh? And he knows that he shouldn’t. Wanting things is bad. It’s  _ selfish.  _ Roman can’t afford to be selfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are you sure you don't want me to maim the fuck out of them? 'Cause I will. I'll fucking do it right now - "


	27. Squish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Abandonment Issues, Mental Health Issues, Non-Graphic Injuries, Mostly Comfort Actually, Mentions of Sex (Remus pals)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you didn't see this coming! Hahahahahaaa!
> 
> Side note, I may be updating a few hours later than usual tomorrow!

Roman wakes up to a scraggly mustache and wide, manic eyes in his face. He screams, startled, but then his scream turns into laughter and he nearly falls out of bed, but Remus catches him and pushes him back up so he can finish laughing. It’s just as well, because his sides start to hurt and he has to gasp for breath between laughs.

When he finally calms down, Remus pokes him in the shoulder and asks, voice chipper and very much delighted, “Are you awake yet?”

He shoots a joking glare at his unashamed brother. “Yes. I am awake.”

“Great! So, whaddya wanna do today?” Remus asks, looking around excitedly. He almost looks like he’s _glowing_ in enthusiasm, but that’s too tame of a term for him, so Roman thinks that maybe he’s more like… radiating with enthusiasm. Like radioactive things. That is, if they actually glow… what if they don’t? _Do_ radioactive materials glow? (Logan would know.)

Roman’s mind shifts to Remus’ question. Immediately, he thinks of the Imagination - and how it’s been a full, what, four days, five days since he’s been in there. His kingdom is… probably overrun with monsters by now, if it wasn’t already. He gets out of bed, pushing the blankets away and picking up one of his fallen stuffies. Then he snaps into his prince outfit (snapping is a lot more fun than waving, he decides) and conjures a hairbrush to tame his bedhead. 

“Do you feel like battling a bunch of beasts in my side of the Imagination?” he asks, absently pulling his ruby-red portal into existence. “I, um… there’s quite… quite a few at the moment.”

“Why?” Remus asks, curiosity plain in his voice even though he’s busy looking at his reflection in Roman’s mirror and changing his outfit to something a little more adventure-suited. Which is just his duke outfit, so Roman doesn’t quite see the point but he’s not about to point it out. 

“It likes to mimic my mental state,” he answers sheepishly, glancing at the portal. He doesn’t often take the time to appreciate it, but it’s pretty. It’s such a nice, crystalline crimson color, and walking through it is always so… _warm._

Then he realizes that Remus hasn’t said anything. Roman turns and frowns briefly in concern, but then he steps back in surprise when he sees the serious look on Remus’ face. It’s not… it definitely _suits_ Remus’ face, ‘cause they have the same face, but it’s just unsettling. Roman doesn’t like it. (He’s seen it a lot of times now, shouldn’t it be more natural?)

“What do you mean?” Remus asks, tone betraying nothing, which actually betrays more than it should. It means that Remus is deciding whether or not he has to murder someone. It means that Roman must’ve said something worrying.

“Um, it- uh, there’s um… the whole… thing, and the callback… and Thomas… and the others…” he trails off, biting his lip. He doesn’t really want to think about it.

“Are you sure you don't want me to maim the fuck out of them? 'Cause I will. I'll fucking do it right now - ” Remus growls, summoning his morningstar and starting towards the door with heavy stomps. Roman grabs his arm and stops him, heart rate spiking as images of the others with fatal injuries, bleeding out with faces contorted in pain shoot through his mind like lightning. 

“I’m sure,” he says quickly. “Don’t - don’t hurt them.”

Remus groans and drops his morningstar with a _thud._ When he turns around he crushes Roman in a hug and buries his face in his shoulder. Roman stiffens, surprised, but then he melts into the warmth and hugs back.

“I just don’t want you to be sad,” he says, muffled by Roman’s shirt. His voice cracks midway. It makes Roman’s heart jump to his throat and tears spring to his eyes, but he swallows it and just hugs his brother tighter.

* * *

Fighting monsters with Remus is a lot more fun than fighting monsters by himself. For one, there’s hundreds of new strategies that open up when there’s someone else helping him battle the monster. Secondly, bantering with Remus while fighting distracts him from the fear and gore of it all, which is _definitely_ a bonus. And thirdly, it’s _fun._ Actually fun, not just invigorating, but legitimately entertaining. By lunchtime, they’ve already defeated a flock of harpies, a manticore-chimera, and a hydra-griffin. 

Roman isn’t seriously injured, just a gash in his bicep and a lot of bruises, but Remus has a broken leg, so they’re patching him up in Roman’s room now. They’re definitely not going to be adventuring again until Remus’ leg is better, but Roman thinks that the next time he needs to battle a horde of monsters he’s going to be inviting Remus.

“Ugh, what am I supposed to do with a broken leg?” Remus bemoans, hissing as Roman carefully shifts the bone back into place. He continues as though he didn’t, though. “I can’t do _anything_ fun. No fucky-fucky, no sneaking around, and that means no _pranks,_ and fuuuck you’re gonna make me use crutches aren’t you, you bastard-”

“Yep!” Roman agrees, snickering. It’s a single break, so he decides that a splint will be better than a cast for Remus. He’s broken enough bones in the past that he has all the necessary materials in his first-aid kit, so he just pulls out the splint he made and a roll of gauze, then a couple bandage rolls. 

“Nooo!” Remus protests, whining. When Roman glances up he’s grinning, though, so he just snorts and keeps going. “How could you do this to me? I will never recover! You are a tyrant! I can’t go three months without doin’ the dirty!”

He wrinkles up his nose. “Ew, Rem, what the heck! Who would you even do it with? Are you secretly dating someone or what?”

Remus giggles delightedly and Roman immediately knows that he should _not_ have asked that question. But unfortunately it’s too late, because Remus answers, “I get to have a snake in my butt!”

Roman blanches and has to stuff a fist in his mouth and _bite_ to keep himself from thinking about… _that._ He tugs a little harder than necessary to unroll the next section of bandaging, and Remus yelps, but dissolves into laughter. “Why- _why_ the _fuck_ would you SAY that!? I don’t need to know about your sex life!”

“You’re the one who asked~” Remus teases, tapping his finger on the bathtub rim to the rhythm of a song that Roman only _wishes_ he didn’t know. “Alright, alright, fine. It was a joke! Me n’ Dee aren’t together or anything.” There’s a weird tone to his voice. It’s flippant, but just _slightly_ too much, with just a touch of - wistfulness? 

“Oh my god, you have a crush on Deceit!” Roman realizes, pinning the bandages and standing up, eyes wide in shock but mouth slowly tilting up in delight. His knees are sore from kneeling for so long, but he barely registers it because _Remus has a crush on Deceit._

Remus’ face flushes red, a rare sight _indeed -_ it’s very weird to see so much color in Remus’ skin, normally it’s so pale - and he groans. “So I have a squish. Sue me! Dee’s just so fucking _adorable_ Ro!”

“Squish?” Roman raises an eyebrow curiously. 

Remus pauses. Then he holds up a hand that Roman takes and uses to pull him to his feet. He grins and shrugs, wincing when it hurts. Or at least, that’s what it looks like. “I’m aro! So squish is like crush but queerplatonic! Surprise I guess?”

Wait. Aro? Aromantic? Queerplatonic? Roman is _so_ fucking glad he stayed up all night one day looking into that sort of thing (just ‘cause) or he’d be so lost right now. He smiles and summons a pair of crutches, handing them over to Remus with a now growing smile when his brother huffs. “So… squish, huh? And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell him anytime soon?”

“Ugh, nooo, I can’t!” Remus complains, following Roman out of the bathroom with his crutches so they can sit down on Roman’s bed and keep talking. “I’ve been squishin’ on him for years, Roman, _years -_ and I can’t tell him!”

“Why not?” Roman asks, amusement edging into his voice. 

Remus’ face falls. He looks down at his lap, once again concerningly serious, but this time nervous too. When he answers, his voice is so small that it catches Roman off-guard. “What if he thinks it’s weird? What if… what if _I’m_ too weird? And what if I tell him, and he doesn’t feel the same, and it ruins everything?” His voice drops to a fear-filled whisper, and Roman watches in concern as Remus’ eyes grow wet. “What if he _leaves?”_

It feels like a punch to the gut. It hits hard, and fast, one moment he doesn’t understand but the next - the next he understands all too well. Roman swallows. Then he slings an arm over Remus’ shoulders and squeezes comfortingly. “I don’t know Deceit as well as you do. So I don’t know the answer to that. And… and I won’t pressure you into telling him. But, if you do decide to, I’ll… I’ll be right here. I’ll be there for you to rant about how ‘adorable’ he is whenever you need to. And if you tell him, and _if_ he takes it badly, you… you’ll always have me. I’m… I’m not leaving. Never again.”

Remus sniffs loudly. And wetly. And it’s a bit gross, but Roman keeps that to himself so that he can just hug his brother and help him feel better.

“You really mean that?” he asks quietly.

“Of course,” Roman replies firmly. _Never again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He smirks. Roman feels irritation bubbling up inside of him -


	28. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Hurtful Happenings, Mostly Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I rant a bit? 
> 
> I'm gender-fluid, and I prefer it/its pronouns - but because my family is... not quite able to accept that sort of thing, I just settle for they/them. And they can't even do that! Or, most of them can, but there's just that one - my mum absolutely refuses to use they/them ("It's plural!" "You didn't show any signs!" "You can be whoever you want to be but I'm your mum so I'm allowed to call you whatever I want." "I'm not kicking you out or anything.") And the worst part is that she works at the school I go to! To think I actually thought she'd be supportive - she's religious, conservative, queerphobic, and annoying, how did I not see that coming? Anyway, I've been out for over a year now, and... ugh. I can't believe I have to spend two more years dealing with this sh*t every day- I mean, yeah, I'm lucky that it's not nearly as bad as it could be, and that I live in a pretty liberal area, but how hard is it to just... use my pronouns? And they're not even my preferred pronouns! They're the ones I /settle/ for because literally no one I know irl will use the ones I do prefer! 
> 
> Sorry 'bout that, rant over- may also update later tomorrow, trying to catch up on school-

It’s Tuesday. Nothing special about it, just a Tuesday, no plans, no worries. Remus is away in the Imagination conducting experiments with slime and explosives, so Roman’s on his own today. He’s… okay with that, since he knows that Remus isn’t going to be away forever and that they’re meeting up tomorrow to have a brainstorming session in the Dark Side. 

So he decided that he wants to make hot chocolate, and that’s why he’s heading downstairs, in his prince costume with pep in his step and a smile on his face. 

“Virgil, which color scheme would work better for this chart?” Logan’s voice drifts up from the commons. 

_ What? _

Roman stops walking, three stairs away from the end. His smile slips off of his face, and he stares. His face betrays none of his rush of confusing emotions, just shock and anger. He’s not actually angry, but he knows from experience that whenever he shows hurt it usually looks like anger. 

Logan is… asking Virgil… for advice on color schemes. That’s  _ his  _ area. That’s - that’s his  _ purpose,  _ as Creativity!  _ He’s  _ the artistic one! That’s his  _ one job,  _ the  _ one job  _ they  _ let  _ him do, and now they’re not - is this the end of it? Are they going to stop needing him for his Creativity too? Is this how he becomes obsolete? Is this how they’re going to  _ make  _ him obsolete? He would’ve thought that at least  _ Logan  _ would still turn to him for his area of expertise! 

“Blue, Purple, Gray,” Virgil’s voice says, casually, after a moment of deliberation. 

“Very well,” Logan says. Now Roman can see him, standing by the coffee table Virgil’s sitting on, holding up an uncolored bar graph on a poster board. It reminds him of Logan’s “facts of the day” posters. “Thank you for your help Virgil.”

He sinks out, and numbly, Roman walks down the last few stairs, eyes fixed on the spot where the logical side used to be. His gaze shifts to Virgil, who raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the matter Princey? Jealous Logan thinks I have better taste than you?” 

He smirks. He  _ smirks.  _ Roman feels irritation bubbling up inside of him - but rather than spit out insults and defend himself with the fiery intensity of an explosion, Roman sucks in a sharp, stabilizing breath and turns on his heel, striding from the room to the kitchen with his chin held up and shoulders set. He will not stoop down to the level of petty arguments again. If he fights, it will be for a cause worth fighting for.

And… Roman isn’t a cause worth fighting for. Not… not yet. Maybe one day he will be, but right now, he needs to let it go. Logan… probably went to Virgil because Roman’s more often than not  _ not  _ in his room, and he wouldn’t want to interrupt Roman just to ask him his opinion on a poster that really isn’t all that important. Yes, that makes sense! He takes another breath, swallowing to keep the hurt from growing. 

It’s okay, he tells himself.  _ You’re okay.  _

Roman grabs a saucepan from a cupboard and sets it on the stove. Then he gets milk from the fridge and decides to wing it this time, forgoing measuring cups to just pour it into the saucepan, eyeing about enough for -  _ Logan’s busy but he’ll have time for it, Patton would never say no, Virgil was mean but I won’t exclude him, Thomas is actually real so that’s a no, I don’t know about Deceit, and Remus hates chocolate so that’s… three plus me, so four -  _ four servings. 

He opens the pantry to look for brown sugar, just as Virgil walks into the kitchen, an apprehensive look on his face. He’s also got a smirk on, but even though it’s amused it’s hesitant, a cover-up for confusion. 

“What do you need, Stormy Knight?” Roman asks, carefully schooling his tone and expression to be as bold and dramatic as it normally is, with a small smile that shows his genuinity. He’s just going to pretend that Virgil didn’t say anything at all, that’s what he’s going to do, and no one can stop him! 

“Dude, you just left…?” Virgil squints at him incredulously, leaning against the counter to try and be casual, but Roman can see that he’s unsettled. “What, no offensive schoolyard insults today? I’m honored.”

Roman beams.  _ There it is!  _ He pulls down the bag of brown sugar and spins around to set it down on the counter next to the stove. “As well you ought to be, Patches! I would engage in our typical friendly bantering, but as you can see, I am preoccupied at the moment. I’m making hot chocolate!”

He huffs in amusement when he realizes that he didn’t turn on the flame. He turns the knob to a little over simmering, and shakes his head at himself, then heads back to the open pantry to search for dark chocolate. 

“It’s August,” Virgil says, and his tone sounds like he’s trying to tell Roman that he’s an idiot, but Roman brushes off the hurt again and conjures up the dark chocolate since he can’t find any. He  _ knows  _ he’s an idiot. But he also knows enough to know that hot chocolate is good for any season, not just winter.

“Are you saying you  _ don’t  _ want hot chocolate?” Roman asks dubiously, mostly sure that Virgil does want some. But there’s always the chance - 

“I didn’t say that,” the emo deadpans. He shrugs. “I’m just saying that it’s August.”

“Oh. Alright then!” he brightens, summoning a knife and a cutting board to chop up the dark chocolate so it’ll melt better. It’s so satisfying, chopping up chocolate. He almost doesn’t want to stop, but he does, easily scraping the shavings into the warm milk once he sprinkles enough brown sugar into it. 

“...Alright…” Virgil agrees slowly. But, Roman doesn’t  _ think  _ he missed an obvious point, which is what usually makes Virgil say that like  _ that…  _ so he just shrugs it off and stirs. After another moment or two, Virgil leaves. He walks, so he’s not going to his room, and he’s probably going to sit on the coffee table again and blast that scream-y music into his ears with his headphones. Roman has never understood how anyone could like being screamed at enough to  _ more than willingly  _ subject themselves to it just because it has some sort of beat and maybe a melody that can’t possibly be picked out through the sheer  _ volume  _ of it. But to each their own, he supposes.

When the chocolate is fully stirred in and the milk is a nice deep brown, he turns off the heat and opens the fridge, getting a can of heavy whipped cream. He covers the whole top with the foamy white and stirs it in without a second thought. Then he dances away to the still open pantry, grabs the cinnamon, and decides to put away the rest of the dark chocolate and the brown sugar before he heads back to the saucepan. He sprinkles in the cinnamon, stirs the hot chocolate, and puts the cinnamon back in the pantry and closes it. 

Then he pulls out all four of the mugs from next to the coffee machine and lines them up, ladling out the hot chocolate into each one so that they’re a good four-fifths filled. 

Logan’s mug is a simple navy blue, with a black stripe around the base and the rim. Or, it would be, if Roman hadn’t stolen it a few weeks before Logan’s birthday a few years back and added the Crater constellation in silver stars and thin black lines on the front. Logan “never forgave” him, but he never took it off either so Roman counts it as a win! For his cup, Roman doesn’t add whipped cream on top, just a drop of vanilla extract and a small sprinkle of cacao, because apparently Logan doesn’t like anything that isn’t at least a little bitter. 

Patton’s mug is like a scrapbook. It’s covered in little squares, each one a FamILY picture or a picture of Thomas’ friends or pictures of puppies and kittens. The handle is a simple baby blue, and the base is the same. Roman made it for him really early on, when they were… twelve? Yeah, twelve. He doesn’t remember why, just that Patton loved it, and still loves it. Roman adds a lot of whipped cream on top of his hot cocoa, along with a few rainbow marshmallows, sky blue sprinkles, and a red and white candy cane. 

Virgil’s mug is a deep purple, with a white spiderweb painted onto the handle and storm clouds painted on the front, with a lot of black, bare trees on the forefront. It was the inspiration for the emo’s Christmas sweater, if Roman’s being honest - and it’s the one mug in this kitchen that Roman hasn’t touched, design-wise. Virgil’s had it since he moved in. Roman adds in three white marshmallows, a drop of peppermint flavoring, a couple miniature oreos, and that’s it. Nice and simple. 

Roman’s mug is a rich red, with a black handle and a gold rim. It has his crest on the front, with black paint that has a golden sheen to it, and subtle glittery paint coating the rest of the red. He made it himself, on one very boring day that he made interesting. He made it even before the whole division of the mindscape. Roman adds whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, with an additional sprinkle of cinnamon over the top. 

He conjures up a silver platter and places three of the mugs on it, leaving his own on the counter. Then he picks it up and heads out to hand them out. 

Virgil’s on the coffee table, as he predicted, and when Roman holds out the tray with a proud smile he takes the mug and takes a sip, eyebrows flying up in surprise as he hums in appreciation, not taking off his headphones or looking away from his phone. 

Roman beams, stifling his happy bouncing so he won’t spill the other two mugs, and sinks out to the front of Logan’s door. He kicks it lightly a couple because his hands are occupied, and when Logan opens the door he just holds up the tray and grins. “I made hot chocolate! Do you want some?”

The nerd smiles. He looks a bit tired, but otherwise good! “I appreciate it,” he says, and for a moment Roman’s worried that he’s going to refuse, but he takes his mug and smiles again before turning away and closing the door with a “thank you”. 

Roman wiggles his shoulders in delight, suddenly noticing another thing that he and Remus have in common, and sinks out to knock on Patton’s door. 

When Patton opens the door, he takes one look at Roman and the solitary mug on the tray and squeals in delight. “You made hot chocolate!” he exclaims. “Is it for me!?”

“Obviously,” Roman says flippantly, but his smile is too bright and genuine to be dismissive. 

Patton squeals again and takes his mug, picking up the candy cane to lick off the whipped cream. “Thank you so much Roman! I love it!”

“You’re welcome!” He vanishes the tray and beams, sinking out and rising up again in the kitchen, so he can pick up his own mug and take a seat at the table. He’s buzzing with happiness from his interactions with the others, Virgil’s hurtful comment and Logan’s betrayal forgotten with his first sip of hot chocolate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman sidesteps the shuriken thrown in his direction and grins. Finally -


	29. Not So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Unintentionally Hurtful Teasing, Unintentionally Toxic Friends, They're Dense Idiots, Inside Jokes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here ya go! I put off schoolwork for this! Procrastination is the bane of my future but the best thing for my present- don't worry, I've got plenty of time, I'm just kidding. Totally. :)

Roman’s been having a really shitty day. Thomas summoned him at two in the morning to ask for his help with a script idea, only for Logan to come along and berate Roman for keeping Thomas up when “you know how important getting enough sleep is, Roman” and “didn’t we discuss this _multiple times, Roman”_ and how he would _“appreciate_ it if you would stop making my job harder, Roman!”

Nevermind the fact that _Thomas_ summoned _him,_ he didn’t just show up willy-nilly at two in the morning with nefarious intentions! Thomas was _already_ awake, it wasn’t _his_ fault! 

Then, Thomas got a text from Talyn asking if they could vent to him for a bit, and no one would let Roman be a part of the discussion. _“This isn’t a romantic or creative matter, it requires a logical standpoint and emotional understanding, so you can sit this one out.”_

 _“Oh, I can sit ‘this one’ out, huh? Not like I sit_ **_all_ ** _of them out already,”_ he’d muttered under his breath.

_“Yeah princey, we don’t need you dramatically declaring to vanquish Talyn’s aggressors like a himbo,”_

_“Sorry Roman… but I think we’ve got it covered!”_

So Roman left _that_ discussion, and to try and get rid of some stress he tried to bake muffins, but he started getting all fuzzy-headed - _regressed -_ and so, like the idiot he is, he accidentally tried to take the pan out without oven mittens. That led to him sobbing and cradling his red, hurting hands close to his chest while he rocked back and forth in the corner of the kitchen while the muffins cooled, scattered all over the tiles. 

What makes it worse is that Patton rose up in the kitchen and saw his whole mess, and he helped Roman hold his hands in cold water while sitting at the table, using that sugary, patronizing tone of voice of his the whole time. Roman was left sniffling and shaking while his hands froze and burned at the same time. Patton picked up all the muffins and put them on a plate after brushing them off, then closed the oven door. 

_“Oh, kiddo, there’s muffin’ to worry about! Just hold your hands in the water, and let your Happy-Pappy Patton take care of the rest!”_

Now maybe, _maybe_ that wouldn’t be so bad - actually, Roman has to admit that he… did enjoy the coddling at least a little - but the problem is that it just - it just felt _so much_ like Patton was laughing at him. He’s a prince! He doesn’t _cry_ over a little _burn._ Hell, he’s been through so much worse than that! The whole time, Patton just kept punning (it’s a stress response, Roman _knows_ that, he _knows_ that!) and giggling, and using his Dad Voice, and honestly by now Roman’s so used to Remus’ genuine worry and frantic attempts at making everything better when he’s regressed that Patton’s normal, unworried attitude felt almost _cold._

And then, _then,_ Virgil showed up a few minutes later, saw Roman with his hands in the bowl of water, and started laughing. He teased him about burning himself, called him an idiot, and even though Patton told him that teasing isn’t nice he didn’t do anything to stop Virgil when he kept doing it. Roman tried his best to not let it hurt him, just laughed and rolled his eyes while his face burned in embarrassment and his stomach felt like it was in his throat, but it didn’t work.

 _“Pfff, you burned yourself making_ **_muffins?_ ** _Really? Oh, that is just too good.”_

And he knows, he _knows,_ that it’s just what they do. Patton is the dad character! Virgil is the emo nightmare! They have reputations to keep up, just like him, and obviously Patton can’t _not_ know what to do and obviously Virgil can’t pass up an opportunity to tear down the prep! 

But when he compares it to Remus, who’s playful and teasing but knows when it’s not okay, and even Deceit, who doesn’t tease him at _all_ when he’s regressed (even if he’s only been around him regressed a couple times and less when he’s not regressed), it feels… mean. He’d say _cruel,_ but they don’t _mean_ it, he _knows_ they don’t.

Still, Roman is ready for his day to be over already when it’s finally two, and it’s time for him to sink out to the Dark Side for that brainstorming session with Remus. When he rises up in their living room, in front of the TV, Roman sidesteps the shuriken thrown in his direction and grins. Finally - _finally,_ maybe his day can be okay.

He’s dressed down, in his red-orange turtleneck sweater and black leggings from his studio. He really doesn’t feel like wearing his prince costume right now. Remus is sitting on the top of the couch, grinning with sharp teeth. He's in fishnets, a short black skirt, and a teal crop-top with swear words written all over it, splint still in place and crutches leaning against the side of the couch. Next to him, but actually sitting on the couch - or rather, laying across it and not looking at the TV (which is playing Beetlejuice) but reading a book at arm’s length, is Deceit. 

He’s wearing a yellow button-up and gray slacks. His hat is on the coffee table, but he’s still wearing his gloves. Roman wonders what’s up with the gloves. Why does Deceit like them so much? Why does he wear them all the time? But he doesn’t ask, because he’s too _done_ with today. 

Actually, now that he’s here, he doesn’t really feel like having a brainstorming session. Logan can settle with the seventeen ideas he already has written out, he decides. He walks over to the couch and plops himself down, immediately pulling his legs up to his chest and leaning his head back to sigh heavily. 

_Finally._

Remus grimaces, but it looks a little more feral and aggressive than a grimace. “What’s up, Ro, you look like you tried to fuck a kraken but found it fucking a pod of orcas.”

Roman groans. “I didn’t, but it’s close enough I guess. It’s just - it’s just been a really shitty day.”

“Want to talk about it?” Deceit asks absently, still reading his book. Now that he’s closer, Roman can see the title - _Company of Liars._ Interesting, because it’s not really a book about liars so much as a book about the medieval life of peasants. 

He considers the question. _You know what, why not?_

“Thomas summoned me at two in the morning,” he starts, hesitantly. He’s not… _entirely_ sure that they’re not going to judge him, but he’s willing to… give it a shot. “He was bored and wanted to work on a script, but Logan showed up and ranted at me about letting Thomas sleep.”

Remus hums angrily, which is something really only Remus could do, and throws a shuriken at one of the rafters. He hits it with a _thunk._ There are a lot of scratch marks on the wooden beams, so Roman can imagine just how often Remus does this sort of thing.

“You know about Talyn venting to Thomas, right?” he asks. He’s not really willing to go into much detail, so he really hopes they already know about it to some extent. Deceit hums in acknowledgement, and Remus nods, looking frustrated at something. “They wouldn’t let me be there for the discussion. They didn’t need Creativity or Romance, they said. They’re not _wrong,_ but -”

“Woah woah woah,” Remus interjects, frowning. “You’re not _just_ Creativity and Romance! You’re like Passion and shit, and Hopes and Dreams, and Pride!”

Roman smiles a little, at that. He likes the way it feels to have someone acknowledge the more nuanced puzzle pieces of his job. Warm. Then his smile slips off again and he huffs in annoyance. “So I left. But then when I was -” his voice falters, and grows a little smaller, more emotional. “When I was baking muffins I burned my hands, and Pat-ton made me put my hands in cold water. N’ then V-Virgil came an’ made fun a’ me… an’, an’ bo’f of them were laughing at me!”

He sniffles and wipes his wet eyes on his sleeve. 

Rem sucks in a sharp breath. “Dee, you sure I can’t go beat some sense into them?”

Dess doesn’t answer for a long moment, considering. Then he sighs. “Unfortunately. We can’t hurt them, that’ll just make them all hate us more.”

“Arson then? _Vandalism?”_ Rem asks.

“Maybe one day,” Dess gives. Roman giggles. “But the problem is that they don’t mean to hurt anyone. They’re dense. The only way we’re going to get through to them is by showing them what they’re doing, and that’s just going _so well_ for us, isn’t it? Now hush and watch Beetlejuice, I’m reading.”

“Reeding?” Rem asks slyly. Dess tenses, face going unnaturally stoic, but slowly it screws up and he breaks, bursting into laughter so hard that he drops his book. He shakes with the force of his laughter, trying and failing multiple times to pick his book back up.

Ro looks between the two of them, confused. Rem cackles delightedly. “You-hou do-don’t want - don’t want to know-”

He pouts, but giggles, and scoots to press against Rem’s legs so he can be warm while he starts to watch the movie.

Maybe… yeah. It’s not such a bad day after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No, Remus - "


	30. Pendant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Biting Stimming, Basically Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha HA! PLOT TWIST! Deceit and Roman are going to be friends! I bet you didn't think it'd be a happy plot twist, huh? :)
> 
> (That's not actually the plot twist by the way)
> 
> Did you pals see the new video!? Recreating Sanders Sides Incorrect Quotes? I was happy stimming the whole time- and that was the inspiration for today's chapter!
> 
> Also, is stimming just an autistic thing? I don't actually know. edit: it's not :)

By the time Beetlejuice is over, and so is Monster House, Coraline, and Watership Down, Ro isn’t tired at all. They were super super scary movies, but Rem is the best at making them not scary, because he laughs at them and says that he’ll protect Ro if anything tries to get him. And Dess is good at it too! He tells Ro all about how to escape those monsters and kill them and when there’s a lot of blood and stuff he says, “Remus,” and then Rem covers up his eyes with a ten-tackle. 

But then at the end of the last movie, Dess says, “Alright, that’s enough for today. It’s nine, and all children should be tucked safely into bed.”

Ro climbs up onto the coffee table and pouts at Dess. He doesn’t want to go to bed! He wants to watch more movies. More  _ scary  _ movies. Like that one that… um… someone else… there’s someone else, right? He can’t remember right now. But that one movie they always liked to watch! Black Cauldron! ‘Cause he didn’t like scary movies before, but they’re a lot better than he thought they’d be.

“Mother Goose reference?” Rem asks delightedly. 

Dess looks up from his book (he’s almost finished) and grins, flicking out his tongue briefly. He answers, eyebrow raised, “Of course not.”

Rem snickers. “Momma Snake.”

But maybe he’ll get nightmares. He doesn’t like nightmares… so maybe they should watch something not scary. Like… Moana! Or the Lion King! 

“I am  _ not  _ a ‘Momma Snake’ Remus!” Dess hisses indignantly. “I am just the only one here with an actual  _ sleep schedule  _ and a brain cell!”

“Oh, Dee, if you wanted me to fuck up your sleep schedule you coulda just asked~” Rem suggests, voice lilting and smooth. He waggles his eyebrows at Dess, but Dess just rolls his eyes. 

“Remus, you have a broken leg. If I were to do anything with you -” Rem lights up enthusiastically, “ - which I’m not!” he pouts. “It would be when I’m not at risk for seriously mutilating you,” Dess finishes drily. Ro blinks and frowns.

“Why d’you want Dess to hurt your leg?” he asks Rem curiously. 

Rem grins and opens his mouth.

“No, Remus - ” Dess warns, eyes wide.

“For  _ fun,”  _ Rem answers, whispering and leaning forward like he’s telling Ro a secret. Ro giggles and nods, holding up a finger to his lips and bouncing happily before climbing off the coffee table and going to Dess. He taps him on the shoulder, and whispers loudly, “Rem wants you to hurts his leg for fun!”

Dess flushes bright red, except on the scaly side of his face, and Rem bursts out cackling in laughter. Ro grins and wiggles a little before climbing onto the couch in between them. He doesn’t know why it’s so funny but he likes making Rem laugh! So he worms into the couch to get comfy, smiling widely. But he still has so much energy! He flaps his hands, but that doesn’t feel right, he wants to  _ bite bite bite  _ something! So he puts his hand in his mouth and bites. It hurts, but he does it again. 

Then a yellow gloved hand loosely holds his wrist and takes his hand away from his mouth, and when he pouts Dess says firmly, “Don’t bite your hand, you’ll hurt yourself.”

His face screws up. But he wants to! What’s he supposed to do if he can’t bite? He  _ needs  _ to, he  _ needs  _ to bite-bite-bite! He rocks a little, forwards and backwards, but it’s not the same. He needs to bite! He whimpers in distress.

“Um, Snakes, I think he’s like me,” Rem says hurriedly. Dess immediately lets go of his hand, and he puts it back into his mouth and bites harder.  _ Bite bite bite. _

“Sorry,” Dess apologizes. Then he takes Ro’s hand out of his mouth again and before he can panic he replaces it with something hard and rubbery. Instinctually, he clamps down on it, but then he realizes that he doesn’t know what it is and takes it out of his mouth to see. It looks like… a necklace, but with a string. And a weird shaped pen-dent. It’s like a red raindrop shape, but with a big hole for the string to go through, and it doesn’t feel like a jewel. 

Satisfied with his curiosity, Ro brings it back to his mouth and bites it. Then he grins happily and bites it harder, and again, and again!  _ Bite bite bite.  _ He hears one of them sigh in relief, but he doesn’t remember who it is. 

“Okay,  _ now,  _ it’s bedtime. Remus, you have a broken leg, don’t you dare try to bring him back to his room like this,” Dess says sternly. Then he sighs. “And I guess that means I’m  _ certainly  _ not going to be the one bringing him to his room.”

Ro looks up and takes the pendant out of his mouth, eyes wide. “No no! I’m not sleepy!” he protests, desperate. “I wanna stay here with Rem!”

Dess pauses, examining him consideringly. “Well…” he starts. 

“C’mon, Double-D,  _ please?”  _ Rem whines.

He rolls his eyes and huffs, smiling. “Fine. I suppose Roman can stay for the night. After all, it’s not the first time he’s slept in your room, and the others definitely seem to mind.”

Ro breaks into a smile and wiggles, bringing the pendant back into his mouth. He doesn’t bite this time, but he likes the way it feels in his mouth. He gets to stay here with Rem! He doesn’t have to leave! He  _ does  _ have to go to bed, he knows, but he gets to have Rem so he doesn’t mind so much anymore.

Rem slowly gets down from the couch and picks up his crutches, then stops. He lets them fall and summons all of his tentacles, lifting his legs off the ground and then moving to latch onto the rafters. He grins sharply and snickers. “No crutches for me! I  _ completely  _ forgot about these babies!” he declares, slapping one of his tentacles.

Ro giggles, but Dess winces and pinches his nose with his fingers. “Please never do that ever again.”

Rem rolls his eyes and reaches out with two of his tentacles to wrap around Ro. They feel weird, like they always do, and he holds onto them tightly when they pick him up and Rem starts to make his way through the living room and down the hall. Over his shoulder, he calls, “Nighty Nighty Snakey Bitey!”

“Good morning!” Dess calls back sharply, with a hint of amusement. 

In his dim, warm, and salty room, Rem shakes his head. “Dammit. I really like him,” he mutters fondly. Ro is set down gently on Rem’s bed, and as soon as the tentacles retract he snuggles into the blankets and adjusts his hold on the red pendant so he can keep chewing on it while Rem carefully lowers himself down too.

He conjures a pillow under his splinted leg to ella-vate it, and then he pulls a fluffy gray blanket over the rest of him and Ro.

It’s warm. It’s always warm when Ro’s with Rem. He likes that.

* * *

Roman wakes up slowly. It’s not surprising, because it’s dim, even with the sun rising behind the gray rope curtains. Moreover, it’s warm. Remus is next to him, hands and uninjured leg splayed out, while his broken leg is elevated on a pillow. He’s snoring, his hair is very messy, and he doesn’t have a shirt, though he does have sweats on. Roman looks down at himself. He didn’t change out of his turtleneck and leggings, he finds. 

Then he finds that something’s pressing against his ribs. He moves off of it, feeling around for it, and when he lifts it up he finds a red rubber teardrop pendant. Or, more accurately, a chew toy on a black string. Before Roman realizes what he’s doing he puts it in his mouth and bites it. 

Deceit gave it to him, he remembers suddenly. He pulls it back out of his mouth and looks at it anew. There’s not much to find, it’s a simple design made of simple materials. Silicone and some sort of fibre for the string, he’s guessing. He’s not quite sure what to make of that - when was the last time someone gave him something like this? He doesn’t know. 

...He likes it, though.

He puts it over his head and settles it around his neck. Then he slips out of Remus’ bed, carefully avoiding getting tangled in his brother’s many blankets, and heads to Remus’ bathroom, which is cleaner than expected, all things considered. He snaps himself clean, not willing to find out whether or not Remus has hot water or some  _ other  _ kind of liquid, who  _ knows  _ what. He changes his turtleneck for a pink T-shirt and his leggings for looser, lighter pants of the same shade of black. 

Then he pulls the pendant out from inside his shirt and lets it drop to his chest. 

Roman can’t keep the smile from tugging at his lips. He loves it. He _loves_ it. He loves the weight of it on his chest, the feeling of the string against his neck, he loves the way he can just _bite bite bite_ and he won’t have to worry about accidentally breaking skin. He loves what it means. He loves it, _he_ _loves it so much -_ and Deceit gave it to him! Deceit doesn’t hate him! And he doesn’t hate Deceit either. 

He likes that. He likes the thought that maybe they can be friends. Friends… another friend! He has Remus, he has Logan even though he’s not sure if Logan’s still his friend or not, and now… maybe he has Deceit too? 

He grins and bounces on his heels happily, as he conjures a hairbrush and starts sorting out his bedhead.

Maybe he’ll stay around for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deceit raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure they won't? You are - "


	31. Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Awkward, blink-and-you'll-miss-it Suicide Mention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I write backwards half the time! I start in the middle, work my way to the beginning, then go back to the middle and write to the end.
> 
> Do what you will with that information :)
> 
> (Also, I know I said it'd be about fifteen chapters a while ago, but the way things are going it might be a whole lot more, ha PLOT TWIST)

Remus seems very much asleep, and Roman doesn’t have the heart to wake him up - which is to say, he doesn’t think that Remus sleeps very much and the side has a  _ broken leg,  _ sleeping is  _ probably  _ important for his recovery. So he just leaves him be, after admittedly pulling a blanket over him, and opens the door to the hall.

Whereas Remus’ room smells like ocean water in a concrete tunnel, the hall smells… dull. Not nearly as dull as the  _ Light Side,  _ but compared to Remus’ room, it’s very hard to smell anything, acting like a sort of… palette cleanser. 

When Roman enters the commons, he finds that Deceit is up, sitting leisurely in a chair at the table. In one pair of hands is a book titled  _ Empire of Illusion,  _ with a subtitle in a thinner font that he can’t read from this distance. In a third hand is a yellow coffee mug with Deceit’s insignia painted onto the front. The second hand in that pair is loosely holding the seat of the chair and the third pair is resting on the table.

Honestly, Deceit’s arms are so  _ fascinating.  _ Roman can’t imagine being able to keep track of so many hands at the same time, let alone  _ use  _ them,  _ effectively.  _ And they truly do fit Deceit’s aesthetic even if it doesn’t make much sense for a snake to have multiple arms. 

In the center of the table is a platter - it’s too big to be a plate - of French toast, still steaming. It smells wonderful. 

“Roman,” Deceit greets him without looking up from his book. _He really likes his books,_ Roman guesses. He sounds mildly surprised and somewhat cautious underneath his usual smooth, collected, and amused attitude. “Do you need something before you return to the Light Side then?”

“I was thinking I could… stay for breakfast, actually. If that’s alright,” he says with a casualness he doesn’t feel, sitting down as he does. He ignores the spike of anxiety it gives him, wondering if he’s allowed to stay, if he’s imposing, if he misread Deceit’s friendliness, if maybe Deceit only likes his regressed self - because he’s the prince! He can’t worry about such things. He’s not… allowed to. For his role.

But then he feels the weight of the pendant against his chest and his anxiety stills a little. Deceit gave him a gift, the least he can do is stay around long enough to thank him. 

“You’re not heading back?” Deceit finally looks up, eyebrows raised.

“They won’t mind,” Roman says flippantly. He doesn’t meet his eyes, studiously examining a swear word carved into the table, presumably by his brother. It says  _ FUCK,  _ with a winking smiley-face scraped in next to it. His lips twitch up.

Deceit raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Are you sure they won't? You  _ are  _ \- after all - one of them.”

He winces. He… doesn’t know why he feels weird about being grouped with the others, but maybe it’s just the idea that they’d care if he was gone. “Not rea- that is - I don’t… I don’t usually attend breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. With them.”

“Oh? Why not?” the side sounds genuinely curious. But that’s to  _ Roman,  _ who has… a very difficult time with picking out the nuances of tone. Such as sarcasm. And lies. And that may be a problem, especially talking to someone who - he’s been told - mainly speaks in those two mediums, but Roman just decides to take that as though it  _ were  _ genuine.

“Even the best actors aren’t willing to play a singular, static role every day of their lives,” he says drily, after a moment of deliberation. Deceit frowns at that, but he just shrugs nonchalantly. It’s… just how it is. He’s the prince. He has a role he has to play, and it’s easier to do that when it’s not a full-time job.

He can feel Deceit’s eyes searching him, even as he tries to look like he’s just… taking in the setting. It really is a nice place. Dim, sophisticated, lived-in - and it matches their personalities perfectly. Deceit’s dramatics and Remus’ chaos. But his skin prickles uncomfortably under the other’s scrutinizing gaze, and his hand subconsciously goes to the pendant. He tugs on it lightly, fingering it nervously. It serves as a reminder for why he’s here right now, why he’s not leaving.

He needs to thank Deceit.

“That sounds  _ totally  _ healthy,” Deceit says finally. 

Roman stiffens.  _ What?  _ It’s - it’s  _ not,  _ he’s fairly certain that it’s  _ not  _ healthy, why - is this another one of Deceit’s tricks? Is he trying to tell Roman that it  _ is  _ healthy? Is he trying to run him into the ground so that he’ll start coping badly again and then just  _ kill himself  _ so that everyone else won’t have to deal with him and - wait - wait, Roman hesitates. He remembers what Remus said.  _ “Dee-Dee likes being sarcastic a lot. I don’t think he expects you to believe him so much,” _

He bites his lip and forces himself to meet Deceit’s eyes. “That’s… that’s sarcasm, right?”

Deceit looks baffled and a little bit upset, but before Roman can take it back he answers, “Y-  _ yes  _ \- you can’t  _ really  _ -” he stops and takes a breath, huffing it out almost like a sigh but a little too aggressive. “Alright. Yes, Roman, that was sarcasm. It definitely  _ doesn’t  _ sound healthy.”

He shrinks a little under the subtle harshness in Deceit’s voice, looking down briefly. But then he swallows and sits back up, smiling shakily and tugging at the pendant again to remind him that Deceit likes him - at least a little bit. Enough to give him this. “Okay. Okay,” he repeats, trying to calm his racing heart. “Sorry.”

“It’s n- it’s fine,” Deceit brushes it off. After another moment, he sighs deeply and sets his book down, using one of his resting hands to gesture towards the cooling French toast. “Are you… going to have any? You did say you wanted to stay for breakfast.”

Roman flushes. “Um, y- that is- uh, I didn’t - y-yeah,” he stutters out, conjuring a simple plate, a fork, and a knife for himself and serving himself one piece. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to eat more than one with the amount of anxious fluttering his insides are performing today, if he wants to keep it inside of him, that is. He cuts himself a tiny bite and shoves it into his mouth, unable to fully appreciate the  _ amazing  _ taste of it through his nerves. 

His leg bounces under the table. He’s fidgeting quietly, hopefully subtly enough that Deceit doesn’t notice. He’s not entirely sure why he doesn’t want him to - Deceit gave him the pendant for his… more unusual nervous habits, why would he be uncomfortable with just… fidgeting? He supposes it’s just out of habit. 

He has another bite and keeps his eyes fixed on his plate. 

It’s awkward. Deceit goes back to his book, glancing up every once in a while, and Roman just focuses on eating the smallest bits possible at a time, both to keep his stomach settled and to give him an excuse to procrastinate his objective.

He finds himself fingering the silicone pendant once again and sighs, setting down his fork and leaning back in the chair. Why did he stick around? He’s not here for awkward silence and confusion. He’s not here to make Deceit feel uncomfortable in his own home. He’s not here just for the - admittedly delectable - French toast. He’s here to thank Deceit for his gift and  _ that’s what he’s going to do.  _

“Thank you,” he blurts out, before he can procrastinate any more than he already has. 

Deceit looks up. He squints in confusion and skepticism. “...For the French toast? It’s really a -  _ not  _ a problem.”

Roman huffs, closing his eyes in frustration. Then he opens them again and tries again. “No. No, that’s not- I meant, thank you, for… for the…” he flushes, embarrassed, and looks down, gesturing helplessly at the pendant. “I just - wanted to say that. I really- I love it.”

His face is burning by the time he’s choked it out, but when he looks up Deceit looks just as embarrassed, so he feels a  _ little  _ bit better. 

The other coughs. “Oh - uh - um, it- uh - no- no problem. You definitely owe me for it.”

Oh. Roman frowns, looking around at his pockets. Then he looks up sheepishly. “I don’t - I don’t know what you’d want in return. I don’t really have much on me. I can probably head to my studio and stitch something up for you though - ”

“Sarcasm,” Deceit interrupts hurriedly. “You don’t- you don’t owe me anything, seriously, it’s nothing. You were hurting yourself, so I gave you an alternative.”

He flushes again and wonders, briefly, if his face will actually catch fire if it burns enough. “O-oh. Right.”

At that exact moment, Remus drops from the ceiling, tentacles slapping against the ground when he slams into his chair - which surprisingly doesn’t break - and giggles happily. “Aww, look at this, my two favorite people in the whole world are tryin’a get along! Is it my birthday? Christmas? Saint Andrews? C’mon, it must be some sort of holiday!”

Roman buries his burning face in his hands and tries not to laugh. “It’s not  _ that  _ bad, Remus!”

“We’re hopeless,” Deceit agrees. Or disagrees? This - could take some getting used to, he has to admit. But it’s going to be worth it, he knows it is! Or he hopes it is! 

“Alright! So, as cute as this is - because, admit it, you’re like awkward first graders trying to make friends for the first time - we’ve got some  _ business  _ to get to!” Remus exclaims, grabbing two pieces of French toast with his hands and stuffing them into his mouth before continuing, “Thomas is going to a party today! We need to plan some  _ havoc!”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the literal dumbest thing Thomas could've asked -


	32. Handsome Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Not Happy (nothing specific)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ambivert: a person whose personality has a balance of extrovert and introvert features.
> 
> Just so you know :)

The party isn’t very interesting, if Roman’s being honest. Deceit and Remus are waiting until later on to show up, when Thomas will be too engaged in the party to care much about their presence, so right now he’s stuck standing by the wall, looking out at the moderate crowd and waiting for Thomas to need him. 

Because right now, Thomas is just kind of standing around, sipping ice water and looking awkward. It doesn’t hurt _too_ much, since no one is looking at him, but it’s still uncomfortable. _Why am I even here?_ He told Remus that he couldn’t partake in any… _havoc,_ unfortunately, and _thankfully_ Remus understood and didn’t seem to think Roman was ashamed of him or anything. But that means that he doesn’t really have much to look forward to here except probably being brushed off like he always is at social functions.

Even though he really thinks he’d enjoy it, if only Thomas would actually… listen to his suggestions. If Virgil would let him. 

_Stop it, stop it,_ he tells himself, pulling up a loose smile and lifting his eyes a bit. _In and out. They just don’t need me right now, I’m sure that if a situation that falls into my area comes up they’ll listen to me! Right now, no one’s doing much anyways!_

Roman takes another deep breath and just lets himself enjoy the ambiance. 

It’s not a fancy restaurant, with candlelight and fancy dishes, but it’s not Thomas’ apartment and it’s not the grocery store. It’s Joan’s house, Joan’s party, and Joan is Thomas’ best friend. It’s not often that Roman gets to enjoy something like this, usually Thomas prefers less “official” settings, even though parties aren’t exactly Roman’s definition of “official”. 

(It’s funny because Roman is an ambivert. Half the time, parties seem like too much. This is one of the other half of the time, when he actually likes it. He doesn’t have much room to complain.)

“OH FUCK OH FUCK FUCK FUCK-” Virgil shouts suddenly, cussing and swearing rapidly without even _breathing_ in between new curses.

“Langua-EE!” Patton yelps, catching sight of the same thing that has Virgil panicking.

Roman turns to look. 

Standing next to the kitchen counter, with a cup in his hand, is an _incredibly_ handsome fellow with a nice jean jacket and a _he/him_ pronoun pin on it. He has dark, curly hair and deep brown skin, with bright, entrancing eyes. He’s tall, and toned, and _oh fuck_ Roman has a crush already!

 _“Talk_ to him!” Roman shouts above Virgil’s panicked rambling, Logan’s advice, Patton’s squealing, and the actual noise of the party. He tunes it all out! None of that _matters_ right now! He’s _desperate._ And somehow, by some stroke of luck, Thomas hears him!

“Hi, I’m Thomas! He/him.” he greets, walking over without conflict, _thankfully._ “And you’re…”

“Dray,” the handsome man fills in, smiling and holding out his hand for a handshake that goes _completely ignored,_ much to Roman’s chagrin. 

“Dray!” Thomas exclaims too loudly. Then, _then,_ he asks, “So, um, do you come here often…?” He’s standing awkwardly with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, just _smiling_ and _flushing,_ as Dray bursts into laughter. Roman’s jaw tightens. That was the _literal dumbest thing_ Thomas could’ve asked - ! 

He sucks in a breath and sighs deeply. Then he steps back against the wall, quietly banging his head on it to centralize the pain, so he doesn’t feel the _ouch_ of the new bruises pinching into his skin. No one seems to notice, and he’s bitterly glad for it. 

Except that just as he has that thought, who else but _Deceit_ pops up right behind Thomas, hissing in his ear. Roman sees Thomas freeze, swallow, and hears it when he laughs along and says, “Stupid icebreaker, huh?”

Dray keeps laughing, setting his cup down a little too hard and coughing out, “No, no!” before laughing again. “‘Come here often’. It’s a _party,_ I’ve never been here before in my life!”

_Pinch._

Roman winces. 

Then he sets his jaw. This is _his_ area. This is _romance._ This is what he represents, the literal _embodiment_ of romance! And what is Thomas _doing?_ Patton is distracting him with his excited screaming, Logan is muddling his mind with hundreds of different things he could say, Virgil is panicking and _sure,_ Roman can’t hold that against him, but it’s not _helping!_ At least Deceit is here to save Thomas a little face! 

No one is listening to him. No one is letting him help. No one- 

He sinks out, heart turning cold. He rises up in his theatre, center stage, ghostlight falling down on his shoulders and casting his shadow to the wooden floorboards. The seats are empty, he’s alone, and yet he can still hear Thomas’ voice in his head. _“No, but seriously. What brings you here, Dray?”_

_“Quil invited me, actually. You?”_

_“Joan. You know them?”_

_“Nah. You’re… Sanders, though, right?”_

_“You caught me!”_

“I was angry with my friend.” Roman begins, projecting his voice over the reminder of how _unneeded_ he is. He’s angry. He’s _livid,_ and he’s using that, because he doesn’t feel like pretending to be okay with stepping aside. He’s _alone,_ no one’s here to see! He can feel whatever he wants to feel! “I told my wrath, my wrath did end.” His anger grows. Louder. Bitter. _Glad._ “I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.

“And I watered it fears, Night and morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles,” Roman smiles acidly. His fists are clenching and he’s pacing across the stage now, trying to alleviate the tense, fidgeting energy simmering in his blood. _The Poison Tree._

“And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine.” He takes a breath. “And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see,” he pauses, hesitating. “My foe outstretched beneath the tree.”

No, no, no, he can’t be angry at them. They - they don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t know, they’re not his _enemies,_ they’re his - 

Well. They’re not… they’re not his _friends._ They’re just… them. The others. 

“I felt a funeral in my brain,” he tries. _Emily Dickinson._ “And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, treading, till it seemed That sense was breaking through.” 

Roman swallows the pain in his throat once more and heaves deep breaths, paces slowing to match the meter of the poem. 

“And when they all were seated,” _in and out,_ “A service like a drum Kept beating, beating, till I thought My mind was going numb. And then I heard them lift a box, And creak across my soul With those same boots of lead, again. Then space began to toll As all the heavens were a bell, And Being but an ear, And I and silence some strange race, Wrecked,” he pauses. “Solitary.” 

He stops at the front of the stage and stares at his feet. “Here.”

He shakes his head and starts anew. “Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O sea!” he starts, lifting his chin up and pulling his shoulders straight, striding to the other side of the stage in the hopes that perhaps this one will be the right one. “And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.” _Alfred, Lord Tennyson._ If he just - if he just finds the right poem, the right words that echo his feelings, maybe it’ll help him feel better. Maybe he’ll be able to make sense of the confusion hanging over his head.

“Oh, well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! Oh, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead, Will never come back to me.”

It’s _not right._ He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists, then slowly unclenches them to calm down. The self-soothing action makes him remember the pendant, hidden under the tunic of his costume. He pulls it out and bites it, hard, pausing in his pacing to chew on it for a few long minutes. 

He feels a little better now.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,” he says, letting the pendant fall into his shirt again. “There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar.” Roman is stilled. In his mind, he connects the words and his feelings, with a _click_ that he doesn’t hear but he _feels._ George Gordon, Lord Byron. “I love not man the less,” he says. “But Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.”

He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. _In and out._

His theatre smells clear, with barely noticeable hints of wood lacquer and vanilla, from the scent that lingers in his clothes. 

Roman gently rubs the tear tracks from his face and sinks out again, ready to try once more.

Things have calmed down a little since he left. Patton is quietly bouncing in a corner, smiling so widely it looks like he might hurt his face, while Virgil and Logan are nowhere to be found. Deceit is lingering near Thomas, smirking, and Remus is here, jumping around from person to person and cackling in delight as he does questionable things that Roman is very glad the other partygoers can’t see. 

Dray is gone, but Thomas is talking to Joan now. 

Roman smiles, only a little bit disappointedly, and heads over to find out what their riveting conversation is about.

By the time the night is over Roman feels a lot better. _There is a Pleasure in the Pathless Woods._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a stupid idea. He should just -


	33. A Quiet Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of Toxic Friends, Awkward For a Bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are welcome. <3
> 
> You know, I never would've made it this far if it weren't for your comments. They really give me the motivation to keep writing, so thanks, pals. :)

Remus is in the Imagination today. He’s busy, doing something that in all honesty, Roman is probably better off not knowing. He may enjoy his brother’s presence and his more tame ideas, but he’s still in part  _ Intrusive Thoughts,  _ and that does come with a certain… jurisdiction. 

That wouldn’t be a problem. Roman’s been on his own for longer than just a few  _ days  _ at a time, even after reconnecting with Remus again, so it’s really nothing new. 

But… the thing is, he really,  _ really  _ doesn’t want to be alone right now. He’s stressed, and too anxious to get any ideas written out, and he tried to calm down by regressing in his room but he just - he just really wants a hug. It’s so  _ cold.  _

He can’t go to Patton. He knows that Patton would be absolutely delighted to give him a hug and that he wouldn’t ask too many questions. But he can’t go to Patton. He can’t go to Logan, because Logan doesn’t like physical contact, and he doesn’t think that Logan’s his friend anymore. It must’ve been just a… temporary thing. (It doesn’t hurt too much. That’s what he tells himself at least.) He can’t go to Virgil, because Virgil would laugh at him and because Virgil doesn’t like physical contact either. 

Still, that doesn’t really explain why he’s decided that with no other option, going to Deceit is a better idea. Sure, Deceit is fairly physically affectionate towards Remus. But he doesn’t seem like… he goes out of his way to do it much, from what Roman knows. And Roman doesn’t know if Deceit will laugh at him like Virgil would or if it would be forced like Logan’s would be. The only thing he knows for sure is that it wouldn’t be like one of Patton’s hugs. 

Yet, here he is, rising up in the Dark Side and looking for Deceit. The deceptive side isn’t in the living room, so he checks the kitchen, but he’s not there either. The commons look… empty, without Deceit’s slick, subtle presence or Remus’ always-moving, chaotic energy. It’s too quiet.

His heart is pounding. His fingers are tapping incessantly on his arms. For emotional comfort, he’s wearing one of his onesies, his black and red plaid one; fluffy black socks; and a thick golden yellow beanie. It doesn’t have many patterns, even though normally he would have some, because designs and patterns are just too much right now. 

He feels like it’s the quiet sort of day. The kind of day when he doesn’t want to watch anything or do anything, just wants to cuddle and maybe listen to music and relax.

Roman finds himself in front of Deceit’s yellow-painted door. Now that he’s looking, he can see that there are a lot of painted-over stains, probably courtesy of Remus, and a few splinters along the edges. He likes it. It’s elegant, worn, and perfectly suits Deceit’s aesthetic. 

He lifts his hand and knocks, tentatively, and swallows, stepping back from the door and hugging himself tighter. Then he waits.

And waits.

And he’s still standing here, in front of Deceit’s door, in the Dark Side hallway. He’s cold. And alone. It reminds him of when he was talking to the black door to try and apologize to Remus but Remus wasn’t there. Roman swallows again and hangs his head, turning away from the door. This is a stupid idea. He should just - 

“Roman?”

_ Nevermind _ he’s doing this! He turns around quickly, his eyes meeting Deceit’s. The other looks like he came from the commons, but Roman didn’t see him there, maybe he was in another room? Yeah, there’s an open gray door that wasn’t open before, and it looks like it goes to some sort of library. It makes sense, all things considered. 

“Yes…?” he agrees nervously.

Deceit frowns. He’s in his full outfit; capelet, hat, and gloves; and it’s kind of intimidating. “Are you regressed right now?” he asks, after looking him over briefly, eyes lingering on the silicone pendant around Roman’s neck. His brows are furrowed in concern. At least, Roman is  _ pretty  _ sure it’s concern, but it might be skepticism or annoyance. He doesn’t have much experience with Deceit’s concerned face.

He shakes his head. “No…”

“Alright,” the other agrees after a moment. He settles his shoulders and smooths his features, then closes the door he came from. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I’m  _ sure  _ you’re here on a social call.”

“Oh,” Roman didn’t really think about this. What he’s going to say. “I, um. I want to, uh, regress, but it’s not… working.” He pauses. “So. I just… I was wondering… if you could…” _This is so_ ** _hard,_** _how do I ask?_ He shakes his head and pulls up a fake smile. “Nevermind, it was a stupid idea, just forget I was here I’ll, uh, leave you to do… whatever it is that you do!”

Before he can sink out, though, Deceit says, “Wait.”

He stops. Swallows. Smiles nervously. 

“Were you asking if I could help you regress?” Deceit asks bluntly, expression unreadable. 

“Sorta?” He winces at the uncertainty in his voice.  _ Okay, okay, just do it-  _ before he can talk himself out of it he blurts out, “I’m cold,”

“Cold?” Deceit prompts, frowning.

He  _ can’t  _ hold it back anymore. He’s wearing his comfort clothes, he tried to regress for hours, and the stress is getting to him. But he does, he holds it back, because he wants to ask Deceit when he's not regressed. He wants to know if Deceit likes him when he’s not regressed, if he feels obligated to be nice to him when he’s regressed - he just needs to know. 

_ In and out, Roman.  _

“Would you… be okay… with… with giving me…” he has to work to push each word out, because the voice in the back of his head is screaming at him not to show weakness, not to ask, not to ask for anything because he’s a prince and princes don’t ask for help  _ especially  _ when it’s something as dumb and useless as this! “Hug?” he blurts out, finally, flushing immediately and feeling ridiculous. 

Deceit hesitates, unreadable eyes searching his. Then, slowly, he nods and holds out his arms, just two - the others are nowhere in sight - and making no move to come closer. 

It’s up to him, whether or not to accept.

Roman can’t hold back, the promise of warmth is just too much, and he lurches forward into Deceit’s arms, his own thrown around the other’s chest and hugging him tightly. The moment he does, he’s flooded with warmth, and his limbs tremble with the effort to not just  _ melt.  _ It burns so nicely - and he feels like maybe it shouldn’t do that anymore, not when Remus gives him so many cuddles whenever he wants them  _ (and he’s available)  _ \- but he doesn’t care. It’s  _ warm.  _

Deceit’s arms hug him back after a moment, loosely, so that whenever Roman wants to back out he can. 

There’s just one problem with that: he doesn’t want to back out. Ever. He’s warm! He’s finally warm and he can feel the fuzziness starting to fog his mind and the tension is draining from him like rain from glass, and he doesn’t want to let go of that for anything.

“...Roman?”

He blinks, slowly, tired. 

“Roman.”

Oh. That’s him, isn’t it? He swallows and hugs Dess tighter. He doesn’t want it to be over yet… 

Dess’ voice softens, just a little. “I get the feeling you don’t want just a hug. Do you want me to hold you, then?” He nods. “Alright. I’m going to pick you up now.”

Ro can’t think very well. But he knows that Dess lets out his other arms because he feels even warmer, and he’s picked up slowly and carefully, then carried somewhere. He’s not looking. His eyes are closed so he can just breathe in Dess’s smell and drink in the warmth. 

Dess sits down. He opens his eyes. They’re sitting in an armchair, and Dess snaps his fingers, the sound muted because of his cotton gloves. A song starts to play quietly, almost as though he knows exactly what Ro wanted. 

After a while, he hears the sound of a page turning. 

Ro breathes out happily, almost a sigh but near-silent. He shifts, just a little, so he can pull his pendant up to his mouth. He traps it in his mouth, too relaxed to bite, but wanting something inside of his mouth all the same.

“The goddess Dawn now wended her way to vast Olympus, that she might herald day to Jove and to the other immortals, and Agamemnon sent the criers round to call the people in assembly; so they called them and the people gathered thereon.”

Dess’s voice is lilting, smooth like silk and rich as honey.

“But first he summoned a meeting of the elders at the ship of Nestor king of Pylos, and when they were assembled he laid a cunning counsel before them. ‘My friends,’ said he, ‘I have had a dream from heaven in the dead of night, and its face and figure resembled none but Nestor's. It hovered over my head and said, ‘You are sleeping, son of Atreus; one who has the welfare of his host and so much other care upon his shoulders should dock his sleep…’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost November. Why is that important -


	34. What Comes After August?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Briefly Implied/Referenced Self Harm, Stressing, A Bit Awkward, Actually Not That Angsty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, slept in a bit today, but we're cool! Probably next chapter isn't going to be so light, but well, we'll see. :) 
> 
> I looked up "Intense Villain Music" and put on my black fedora and coat while writing & editing this today, I felt so legit :3

“Maybe we can write a song!”

“Ooh, yeah, a Thomas original! What about?”

“Blood and organs and sutures and lab equipment and all the things that you need to make an abomination of a person with no empathy and a thirst for dick!”

“Um… how about instead of… the  _ physical  _ qualities and… whatever  _ that  _ is, we write a song about the other things that make up a person? You know, the family-friendly kind of things.”

“I  _ don’t  _ know, Ro-Ro, I am the  _ opposite  _ of family-friendly - I’m a home-wrecker, not a family guy~”

“Alright, alright, I get it Rem,” he returns, giggling.

He’s really motivated today. He feels like he could do anything! He’s almost literally buzzing with energy, unable to completely sit still or stay on one thought for too long. That’s why his fingers are flying across the keyboard, why he has so many ideas and why most of them aren’t fully fleshed out.

Remus is really helpful too. Roman likes thinking out loud, and having someone else there really speeds things up and helps give a second dimension to all of his ideas.

“With who?” Remus asks slyly.

He blinks. “What?”

“You said you  _ get it.  _ So, who do you  _ get it  _ with?” his twin clarifies, smirking.

“Ew! Remus! Do you  _ have  _ to turn everything I say into an innuendo?” he responds. His nose is wrinkled in disgust at the very thought, just disgust, nothing else, he’s certainly not holding back his snickering. Definitely.

_ (Sarcasm,  _ his mind provides helpfully.)

Thanks to that side conversation, Roman has completely forgotten his train of thought. So he looks up from his laptop. 

Next to his door is a calendar, one that automatically marks off the days because he often loses track. Right now, it says that it’s August 21st. What comes after August again? He’s not sure, his brain is kind of blanking right now -  _ June, July, August, November -  _ Wait. It’s almost November. Why is that important -

Roman freezes as soon as he has that thought.  _ Logan’s birthday!  _ Logan’s birthday is on November 3rd! And how many days are in August? Twenty-eight, right? Because it’s not Leap Year yet, so there’s not a 29th day - or wait, is that… February? Yeah, no, that’s February, August… how many days? Hang on -  _ Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November, All the rest have thirty-one, But February's twenty-eight, The leap year, which comes once in four, Gives February one day more. _

Yeah, yeah, so… August has 31 days! But that’s still not enough, thirty-one minus twenty-one is like, ten, right? So if Logan’s birthday is November 3rd that’s only thirteen days! But, he can’t count the day of or today, so it’s only like eleven days! He needs to get everything together, he doesn’t have a present for him, or a party, or a plan, and wait isn’t eleven days enough? No, no, no procrastinating, he needs to do it all  _ today! _

He stands up and shoves his chair backwards, rushing upstairs to try and figure something out for the nerd.

“What would he like? Nothing too artsy or useless, definitely something practical,” he mutters, probably louder than he means to, as he grabs a sheet of paper and starts furiously drawing out designs. “Would he want a new tie? No, no, that’s shallow, it needs to be something good - I could make a Crofters’ cake? NO! Agh, Logan’s birthday deserves so much more than a stupid cake - ” 

He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up about this - the others never do anything like this for any of  _ his  _ birthdays, Logan doesn’t even  _ like  _ birthdays - but as he flits about his studio grabbing various supplies that he has no idea what he’s going to use for he finds that he can’t really think about much except  _ moving.  _

Scissors, the paper kind and the sewing kind and the thread cutting kind just in case - 

Screwdriver, he doesn’t know how to use it but he’s pretty sure it’s for screwing screws into things to stick them together and  _ maybe  _ he’ll need it who  _ knows -  _

Seven square yards of fabric, navy blue, made out of a cotton-poly blend, course fibers because Logan hates anything less - 

Blocks of wood, the kind he uses to practice whittling, he’s really terrible at it -

His sword, just in case a dragon-witch or something tries to get in the way of him making Logan’s birthday present for some reason -

Mint chocolate, he can’t forget the chocolate, why can’t he forget the chocolate - wait it tastes delicious, maybe Logan won’t mind if he has a few -

“Roman! ROMAN!” Someone - Remus? - shouts. 

He ignores them, still ranting - is it out loud? - about Logan’s present and wait, was Remus here before? He’s pretty sure, but he can’t be certain. He was doing something - what was it? He stops, frowning, then finishes shoving the handful of chocolate into his mouth before he swings back downstairs over the banister and lands, stumbling over to his bookshelves because maybe Logan will want one of his more historical books!?

“Roman, **STOP IT!** ”

He stops at the screamed words, heart pounding while the rest of him is frozen.

Remus is in front of him glaring at him with piercingly green eyes and a mouth drawn back in a sharp-toothed snarl. For a moment, Roman just looks him back in the eyes, startled, but then his vision slowly broadens. Remus is standing in front of him, tentacles out, feet firmly planted on the ground.

_ Doesn’t Remus have a broken leg?  _

His eyes flick down, and sure enough, Remus’ leg is still splinted - but he’s not going easy on it  _ at all,  _ he’s using it like it’s already healed even though it’s only been a little more than a week. 

“Roman,” Remus says firmly, “After August comes  _ September,  _ not  _ November.  _ We haven’t even had  _ Halloween  _ yet, you shouldn’t be worrying about Lo-bot’s birthday!”

Oh. Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? He completely forgot about September and October… Roman’s face burns in embarrassment and he drops all the things he’s carrying, teleporting them back to where they’re supposed to be. 

“Right.”

“Now,  _ you,  _ my dear brother, are going to take a break.” Remus orders, wincing as he shifts his weight from his broken leg but not breaking eye contact. “You’ve been really fucking hyperenergetic all day and I thought maybe you’d be able to write it out, but seriously, you can’t work yourself into a fit like this every time you get stressed!”

He swallows and hangs his head in shame. “Yeah. Yeah, alright… I just…”

“No! No excuses!” his brother declares, grinning sharply and giving him winking-finger-guns. “We’re gonna go beat up beasts in your side so you can calm down!”

“Broken leg,” Roman interjects firmly, before anything else. Remus is absolutely  _ not  _ going to be fighting any monsters with a broken leg!

Remus rolls his eyes. “Fine,  _ you’ll  _ beat up beasts, and I’ll watch with a bowl of popcorn and a juice box. And also like, emotional support and shit.”

“I like how you added that after admitting that you’d watch me getting beat up with popcorn and juice,” Roman laughs.

“Oh no, if you dare get beat up, I’m not gonna be watching. I’m gonna be beating you up  _ myself,  _ bitch, after brutally slaughtering your externally-manifested internal demons!” he shoots back, deadly serious.

“You know what I meant,” Roman smiles a little.

Remus shrugs. “A little clarity never hurt anyone.”

* * *

“Hey Deceit,” Roman greets the scaled side as he rises up in the Dark Side commons. He’s bored, and he wants to bake something, but Patton’s using the kitchen right now to attempt a chicken ravioli. So yes. He’s here to see if, potentially, Deceit would be alright if he used their kitchen instead.

“Hey,” the other returns absently.

Roman pauses. Deceit is in the middle of a game of chess… with himself. The chess set is on the coffee table, and it’s a nice one too, made of glass. (He can’t help but wonder how many times Deceit has had to replace it. Remus isn’t the type to let something so easily broken go untouched.) It’s sideways, so it’s easier for Deceit to reach both sides. 

Before he can reconsider, he asks, “Can I play?”

Deceit looks up, a single eyebrow raised, just enough. His mouth slowly twists upwards into a smirk, and he sits back, graciously waving a gloved hand towards the chess set. “Do you know how to play?”

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Before…”  _ before Virgil joined us,  _ he doesn’t say, because he feels like that might potentially be a sensitive topic. “A while back, I was the only one Logan could play with, because well, Patton isn’t exactly the best at strategical games. It’s been a while, o-obviously,” he stutters and winces at himself, but continues, “But I figure even a… bad player is better than playing yourself?”

“Sometimes,” Deceit says cryptically, eyes shifting to the side as though remembering something, then grimacing and quickly pulling his smirk back up. “Please, stay standing, I definitely have all day.”

Roman squints slightly. Then, after a moment of awkward silence, he says, “Sarcasm, right?”

“Y-yeah, it is,” the other says, baffled.

He smiles awkwardly and makes his way over, sitting down as Deceit turns the board 90°, so the white pieces are on Roman’s side. He appreciates the gesture and helps him reset the board.

* * *

“Fuck, he’s so -” Remus sighs and groans, burying his face in his hands. When he starts speaking again his voice is muffled, but Roman can still hear his embarrassment. “He’s just so fucking cute, Roman!”

“What’d he do this time?” he asks, amused. He sets down his paintbrush and turns to face his brother completely, smiling expectantly.

“I gave him a dead rabbit, because I couldn’t think of anything else to give him and I just wanted to give him something,” Remus starts. Roman can see his ears turning red. “And he smiled, like, Roli, his smile is just so  _ fucking perfect,  _ and then he -” 

Remus cuts himself off, flushing dark red as one of his hands reaches up to his hair and touches it almost  _ reverently.  _

Roman decidedly doesn’t laugh. Even though it’s really adorable. Even though Remus is so  _ obviously _ gone, it’s nearly impossible. He just smirks knowingly. “Go on!”

His brother groans, smacking his head on the wall. “He patted me on the head and said he hated it, which means he  _ loved  _ it, which -  _ AGH.  _ I just -” Remus devolves to moaning loudly like a dying walrus and pressing his wrist to his forehead like a swooning noble, flushed as red as he can get. 

He can’t hold back a few snickers. “I see,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And you would know so much about that-"


	35. Jerk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Somewhat Graphic Depictions of Violence, Injury, Unintentionally Toxic Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised. :) 
> 
> Fun Fact: My username is like the Aspen tree and a play on the word "sea", it has nothing to do with my actual name!

Roman’s bored. And he hasn’t been in the commons in a few days, so he figures that he might as well - but when he finally finds himself in the living room, standing opposite Virgil, concern and nervousness start bubbling up inside of him.

“What happened?” Roman asks, frowning, because Virgil  _ never  _ sits where he’s supposed to sit unless he’s - in shock or something, as far as he knows, and right now he’s sitting on the couch with his cheek squished by his fist, propping him up by the arm of the couch. Not on the coffee table, not on the arm, not on the back, not on the floor. Not in the kitchen on a counter. Not on the fridge. Not on the mantle (that one’s still a bit of a mystery to Roman). On the couch. 

“Why would you care,” Virgil mutters, huffing and rolling his eyes. Roman flinches.

“I - I mean, we’re friends, I’m kind of going to worry if you look like all your dreams have been crushed,” Roman explains, laughing a little.  _ Stay in character, princes are gracious, princes are kind, princes are friends with everyone.  _

“And you would know so much about that - wouldn’t you, Princey?” Virgil snaps, dripping with sarcasm that even Roman can hear. His violet eyes are flashing and his lips are twitched up in a smirk that really is more like a snarl, and he stands up, drawing himself up to match Roman’s height.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Roman demands, anger seeping into his voice as his fingers curl into fists.  _ C’mon, Roman, breathe, don’t argue, don’t yell, don’t  _ **_fight_ ** _ it’s not worth it -  _

“I’m just _saying,”_ he shrugs, tone hard as a glittering glass diamond. “You’re _always_ in your room or in the ‘Imagination’, and when you are out here you’re obnoxious and self-absorbed, so what would _you_ know about friends? You don’t _have any.”_

_ N-no, that’s - that’s not  _ **_true,_ ** _ I have Remus and - and Deceit! And they’re nice and they’re  _ **_good_ ** _ and - and -  _ Roman swallows. He  _ knows  _ that the others aren’t his friends. He  _ knows  _ Virgil doesn’t like him, he  _ knows  _ Patton only keeps him around because he’s ‘Good Creativity,’ he  _ knows  _ Logan only cares about him for his function, he  _ knows  _ that! So why - why does it  _ hurt  _ so  _ fucking bad to hear it? _

“It’s not  _ my  _ fault I’m Thomas’ Creativity! I have projects to work on, inspiration to use, I have a kingdom to run, I can’t be out in the commons all the time and I  _ certainly  _ don’t want to if  _ this  _ is how I’m received!” he shoots back defensively.

He’s breathing hard, trying desperately to keep his anger from boiling over and his hurt from showing, trying to stay  _ in character.  _ He taps his foot on the ground, trying to let some of it out, but it’s not enough, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to  _ bite bite bite -  _ his hand goes to his neck but his mind commands,  **Not in front of Virgil.**

His hand drops.

“What, too weak to handle the truth? Wow. And here I thought you were supposed to be the ‘brave, handsome,  _ unbeatable Roman,’”  _ Virgil mocks. His expression twists again indecipherably and he taps his finger on his arm incessantly. 

Where has he heard that before? Where has he - “ **_It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror, but instead of a giant head, or like, long legs and a tiny torso… It shows you… everything you don’t wanna be.”_ **

_ “You’re right. I’m going now and I’m  _ **_never_ ** _ coming back!” _

Roman grits his teeth.  _ He did, though, he came back, we’re brothers, we’re friends, he  _ **_cares_ ** _ about me!  _ He flounders, shooting back angrily, “That - that doesn’t mean I would  _ willingly  _ subject myself to your mockery!” 

“Good creators actually take constructive criticism, not  _ avoid all criticism  _ because they’re too ‘high and mighty’ to listen,” Virgil hisses.

Before Roman can rip through his brain for a response, Remus pops up with a  _ sshk  _ by the coffee table, a single crutch under his armpit and a wide, too-sharp grin splitting his face. He’s in his duke costume, sash in place, makeup fixed, and even as Roman takes it all in Virgil startles with a hiss and jumps backward, eyes narrowed and shoulders raised defensively. 

Remus looks at Roman and his grin widens. He waves, fingers wiggling. “Heya Ro-Bro, long time no see!”  _ It’s been barely a day though?  _ Then without missing a beat he uses his crutch to hop over the table, a single tentacle shooting out to grab Virgil and pull him close.  **_“What the hell-!”_ ** Remus cackles maniacally and drops the crutch, grabbing the emo’s hoodie and pulling back -

Just as Roman realizes what’s happening he launches forward, but he’s not fast enough to stop Remus’ fist from connecting  _ hard  _ with Virgil’s face. He can  _ swear  _ that he hears something crunch, and when Remus shouts, “See ya later Virgey!” he sees Virgil’s hands go straight to his broken nose. 

Just like that, his twin is gone as quickly as he appeared.

“Oh my god, are you okay!?” Roman asks, rushing over and kneeling down to where Virgil’s collapsed on the couch. He’s had his share of broken noses, they are  _ not  _ fun, and it’s really not good if there’s any clear fluid or too much blood so he needs to see the injury - 

**“Obviously I’m not okay!”** Virgil shrieks, voice muffled by his hands.  **“Remus just punched me in the face!”**

“Alright! Alright! I get it! Let me see it,” he orders, shoving his anger and worry deep, deep down, until he can deal with it. Virgil pulls his hands away from his face with difficulty, face screwed up in pain and fury. There’s some blood, but it’s not a lot; no clear fluid; and it looks somewhat swollen and definitely crooked, so it’s no doubt broken. But fortunately, Virgil is  _ not  _ in danger of anything serious that he’d need surgery for, because Roman has never successfully tried doing surgery - the only times he’s needed it, he’s just… ended up dying before he could even try. 

He summons his first aid kit and opens it, pulling out a bottle of Advil and everything he needs to splint Virgil’s nose. 

The first thing he does is give Virgil the pills. Once that’s done, he conjures up a pillow to elevate the emo’s head, ignoring his protests and small noises of pain and sharp breaths. For a moment, his stomach flips in fear at the staggered breaths, but he thinks it’s because of the panic, not the injury, fortunately. 

Roman not-so-expertly shifts the bone back in shape - he doesn’t think it’s shattered, just broken - and Virgil jerks away, hissing in pain, but he keeps him pinned down so he won’t ruin it again. 

Then he molds the splint over his nose, grabs the gauze to pack it with, and some medical tape. 

When he’s satisfied with his work, Roman sighs in relief and vanishes his first-aid kit again, standing up and stretching out his cramping muscles. 

“Alright, Simple Man,” he says. “Just knock on my door in a couple days, I’ll check to see if anything’s going badly.”

“Thanks Princey,” Virgil sighs, closing his eyes. Roman waits. It doesn’t quite feel like a goodbye. The other’s eyes open again, not meeting his. “You… didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did! That’s what friends are for!” he declares, beaming, and then before he can think about Virgil’s immediately uncomfortable expression, he sinks out - right to the Dark Side, so he can interrogate Remus for a while. Because,  _ what the fuck,  _ why in the name of the ferret of Queen Elizabeth the First did he  _ punch Virgil in the face!?  _

When he rises up in the Dark Side, he’s very much  _ not  _ expecting Remus to immediately tackle him in a hug. Or for Deceit to be standing a few steps away, an eyebrow raised and bicolored eyes already locked with his own ruby-colored eyes. And yet, that’s what he’s met with, and the immediate warmth just - hits him like a  _ train.  _

In a good way. If that’s… even possible. Which it shouldn’t be. Remus is giggling uncontrollably. Deceit’s smirking. Despite himself, Roman feels his lips twitch upwards. “What? What is it?”

Remus cackles and pulls back, immediately darting around the room, swinging from the rafters with his tentacles and smashing everything in sight with his newly summoned morningstar as though he has too much energy and enthusiasm to just stay still. He shouts gleefully, “I PUNCHED VIRGIL IN THE FACE!”

Roman frowns, but he can’t hide his snort of laughter. “And why would you do that?”

Surprisingly, Deceit is the one who answers that question, sounding for all the world like he’s giving Roman nothing more than the time of day. “He was being a jerk.”

Roman thinks about that. He doesn’t  _ quite  _ agree with their methods, but he does appreciate the thought. He smiles a little. 

“Please don’t let him hurt anyone again,” he asks, watching Remus smash the dining table into little pieces. “I don’t like seeing them hurt.”

Deceit grins. “I make no promises.”

Roman closes his eyes and sighs, shaking his head, but he can’t feign a disappointed face. His mouth is determined to stay turned upwards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is why he does it -


	36. Auditioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Um... Fluff?, I Don't Know What to Put

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, I've got a question for you pals! How am I doing in characterizing the Light Sides? I know they're not great, and I know they're either really nice or jerks and it's probably confusing, so I guess I just wanted to ask. Because it's mostly based off of my experiences. They just don't take the time to be supportive and nice, but they've got their moments, 'cause they don't know what they're supposed to be like and they don't want to put in the effort because they don't think it's that important.

Roman is standing next to Thomas. His prince costume is pristine, sash ironed, gold accents redone. His hair is swept to the side perfectly, no cowlicks, no fuzz, no gel. His boots are polished and he can’t help but love the sound they make when he strides just behind his host, the knight to his liege, the guardian to his ward. 

He’s alone. But it’s the good kind of alone, for once. No one else is on stage with him, no one but him and Thomas and the black-shirted lighting technician repairing the lightbulb on one of the spotlights. Patton is sitting next to the two people who are taking notes on Thomas’ - on  _ Roman’s  _ performance. Virgil is sitting criss-cross at the edge of Stage Left, keeping silent for once, eyes following every movement they make. Logan is standing next to Virgil, hand on his shoulder, quietly whispering breathing exercises to the other. 

None of that matters.

Deceit is in the shadows, just barely hidden behind the drawn curtains. Remus is sitting on a prop crate, chin propped up in his hands, watching avidly. It’s not a role that he has much part in, but if it were, he’d be next to him whether the others approved or not. Whether in Thomas’ thoughts, or truly, metaphysically present. 

That doesn’t matter either. Not right now. Although it does feel good to know that his - his  _ friends  _ are here, watching his performance.

Because it is his performance. Every move Thomas makes, every word he enunciates, every pause and every fluid transition is because of Roman’s whispers, because of Roman’s hands guiding his, because of the steps that Roman takes that Thomas mirrors without even realizing. Roman is leading. Thomas is leading. They are leading together, but it is Roman whose Creativity and Passion and Pride are pushing them. He can feel it, the warmth of his traits being used, the Creativity flowing like a ribboning river from him to Thomas, no veils, no sifting, no detours. Right to Thomas.

It’s not a full performance. It doesn’t go on for hours, it doesn’t take all the Passion and Creativity and energy he has and leave him with more than he started with, it’s not in front of an audience for him to impact with every movement and every word - it’s just an audition. A few minutes long, a little clip of a scene. Roman knows that. 

He keeps his dramatics in check. It’s a scene. Thomas needs to be natural, and he is, he’s just as natural standing center stage in front of the evaluators as Roman is. Roman lets the words flow from him to Thomas to the air. Thomas doesn’t need dramatics right now. He doesn’t need grand declarations and wide, sweeping gestures - he needs little nudges and little ticks of the eyebrow, a clear look in his eyes, a little tone tweaking. 

And then he steps back, a grin slowly spreading across his face as Thomas ends the scene.

Patton claps. Logan, with a small side glance and a small smile, claps. Virgil doesn’t clap, but he does, in the way that he smiles briefly before he starts telling Logan his worries again. Deceit doesn’t clap, but he does in the way that he nods in acknowledgement before he sinks out.

Remus claps, with someone else’s severed hands, and it definitely doesn’t make Roman smile even wider. Definitely. 

He lets Logan take over, walking to Thomas and tapping the script in his hand. “Okay, now you have to give the script back to the producers and sign out. You know how it works.”

Thomas gives the script back. Before he leaves, Roman speaks up, pushing him to thank the producers and the nice person who signed them in. No one stops him. No one argues. This is his place, next to Thomas, walking off stage and down the few steps, signing out the form and heading back to the car. This is his place - the theatre. 

Nothing will ever be able to take that from him.

Once they’re outside, Patton launches forward and envelops Roman in a warm, happy hug that makes him draw in a sharp breath of cookie-scented air. “That was amazing Roman! I absolutely LOVED IT, you definitely blew them away with your  _ air  _ of confidence!”

Roman chuckles, hugging Patton back and feeling only slightly disappointed when he finally pulls back and goes to congratulate Thomas as well. 

When he pulls his eyes away from that happy scene, mouth still smiling helplessly in happiness, he meets Logan’s blue ones. He lifts an eyebrow expectantly. 

The nerd coughs and looks away. “That was… a good audition, Roman. You did well.” Then, because the poor fellow must be allergic to sincerity, he adds, “Objectively!” Roman laughs again and nudges his shoulder amiably to show that he knows exactly what the other really means. 

He couldn’t stop smiling if he tried. And this is why he does it - the exhilaration that comes after a perfect audition, the praise he gets when he’s allowed to do what he’s meant to do, the happy humming in his mind that comes from acting. This is what makes all of it worth it. 

When they reach Thomas’ apartment, the others head inside, but Thomas hangs back. Curious, Roman lingers too. His host doesn’t look worried, just determined, so he doesn’t think it’s anything to be worried about. 

Thomas looks him in the eyes and smiles. “Thanks, Roman.”

He keeps smiling, a little bit confused. “Yeah, it’s not a problem!”

“No,” Thomas shakes his head and takes a deep breath.  _ “Thank you.  _ You… you’re the reason I can  _ do  _ any of this. You’re my Passion, my Creativity - Roman, I need you. I appreciate you and everything you do for me, for  _ us. _ Well, almost everything,” Thomas adds, laughing a bit. He smiles. “We don’t tell you that enough, so I just wanted to make sure you at least heard it from me before our celebratory movie marathon.”

“Oh,” Roman laughs, flustered, not really knowing how to… take that. “Um, well, thanks! It’s - it’s nice to be appreciated,” he declares, beaming. He gestures grandly towards the door, “Shall we head inside, then?”

“Yeah,” Thomas agrees.

* * *

“You really don’t have to,” Roman says, face flushed bright red in embarrassment. 

“Oh, but of course, I’ll just go ahead and dump it all in the dumpster then. I’m sure Remus would love it,” Deceit replies sarcastically. This time, Roman can tell it’s sarcastic, because he’s still filling up the third glass with ice cream! If he were being serious, he would’ve stopped. Roman’s absolutely delighted with himself for figuring that out! Then again, he’s pretty much been stuck in a delighted mood ever since the audition a few hours ago.

Roman grins. “I bet he would.”

Deceit snickers, dropping the scoop back into the tub of ice cream and closing the lid. Then, he looks up abruptly, looking shocked. “Wait, you caught it! The sarcasm!”

He smiles even wider, bouncing and flapping his hands in joy. “I did! Because you kept dishing out the ice cream and if you were being serious you would’ve stopped!”

“You’re improving,” Deceit responds, smirk bordering on an actual  _ smile. _ He, too, seems to be in a good mood since the audition. Roman can’t say that he doesn’t enjoy seeing it. 

Deceit insisted on making congratulatory root-beer floats to celebrate Roman’s and Thomas’ brilliant audition - after Remus suggested it - and so Roman’s just kind of been standing, red faced and embarrassed, by the recently repaired dinner table while Deceit does his work and his brother is out getting… condiments. Of some sort. From his side of the Imagination. (Roman doesn’t plan on having any, but he’s looking forward to seeing what Remus comes up with.)

Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s already had his celebration with the others, and Thomas is currently having his own celebration with Joan, but this? He can’t put a finger on it, but this one just makes him want to smile and smile and keep smiling, makes him want to hug  _ everyone,  _ makes him feel like he’s soaring high above the ground with nothing left to do except bounce and flap and  _ bite bite bite  _ in excitement. 

He loves it. He can’t explain it, he just loves it. 

He feels good. Really good. It almost makes him cry, how happy he is. The feelings are just so much - even though they’re all happy and excited and flustered - that he absolutely cannot keep them all inside. 

* * *

Roman finds himself stretched out across Remus’ body, in his bed, staring at the ceiling and just smiling helplessly. His brother’s snores fill the quiet air, and his warmth is intoxicating. Addicting. He just wants to curl up in it and stay forever, enveloped in the burning warmth and the soothing knowledge that he’s not alone and the sheer joy that’s still lingering inside of him.

Today was a good day. 

_ “That was amazing Roman!” _

_ “You did well.” _

_ “I appreciate you.” _

_ “You’re improving.” _

_ “You did great! It woulda been better with a couple dick jokes but oh well, can’t have everything, right?” _

_ “Here’s to Roman, then,” _

_ “Love ya.” _

Yeah. 

Today was a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Can we not? I mean- "


	37. Black Cauldron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some Toxic Elements, Brief Mistaken Identity??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't such high quality as my other chapters, and that it's a bit later today, I had to rush a bit. :/ I'll probably go back and fix this up someday. 
> 
> Anyways, here's a tiny bit of redemption for Virgil -
> 
> How have your days been, pals?

Roman’s in a good mood. It’s three days after the audition, but he’s still smiling, and he feels - he feels good! So he’s heading downstairs, to see if there’s something for him to do, for no reason. He doesn’t do that so much anymore - not in a long time - but he figures that it’s about time. After all, he’s feeling good! He should be able to just brush off any hurt, and have another good day, like he’s learning!

He passes the others’ halls. What should he do today? He kind of feels like… watching a movie, so what movie should he watch? Should he watch a movie with someone else or by himself? He wants to watch a movie with someone else. He doesn’t want to be alone for now. So who should he watch it with? 

Roman reaches the commons, a spring in his step. This all feels oddly familiar - coming downstairs in a good mood, and - he stops, smiling brightly. And Virgil, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table with a phone in his hand. 

Last time, he was going to make hot chocolate, but this time, maybe this time he can just hang out with the anxious side! (Also, Virgil has a splinted and packed broken nose, which he definitely didn't have last time.)

“Virgil!” He greets the emo enthusiastically. Maybe he will want to watch a movie with him? He doesn’t usually have much to do, just kind of “vibe” until Thomas does something, like go outside or do work. So maybe he’ll have time!

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” Virgil deadpans, sounding bored. He knows what comes next; he has to retaliate, Virgil with insult him, he’ll shoot an insult back, and they’ll fall into their age-old habit of arguing every time they meet each other. He doesn’t want to do that today. (Does he ever?)

“Can we not? I mean -” Roman cuts himself off and grimaces. What can he say? How does he ask what he wants to ask without - without breaking character? “I really don’t need this right now. Can we just…” he trails off, searching for a word. “Hang?” he tries. 

Virgil blinks at him, clearly surprised. He asks skeptically, “Hang?”

He swallows. Then he sighs a little, eyes shifting to a spot on the wall. “Yeah.”

“O-kay…?” Virgil agrees, rather, ah, hesitantly, if Roman’s being honest. He slides his phone into his hoodie pocket and adjusts his position a bit, facing him. “What did you have in mind then, Princey?”

Roman brightens, bouncing a little as he remembers his idea and forgetting his worries in his excitement. “Oh! I was thinking we could - what’s your favorite movie?”

“Disney?” Virgil asks, immediately answering his own question with, “Black Cauldron.”

“No, I was - movie, not just Disney,” Roman corrects offhandedly. He wonders if the anxious side really is into the horror movie theme or if that’s just a ruse, a lie he maintains to save his reputation. 

“WOAH HOLD UP-” Virgil says loudly, almost yelling, standing up from the coffee table and taking a shocked step backwards. Roman draws back slightly in surprise. _What? What is it, what’s going on-_ “DECEIT!?”

“Wh-” he frowns, looking behind him just to make sure Deceit isn’t standing behind him for some reason. Why would he? It doesn’t make any - “Wait, wait, I’m not Deceit!” he protests, turning back to Virgil. “I’m Roman! Prince Roman! Is it so _unbelievable_ that I just want to know what your favorite movie is?”

Virgil narrows his eyes skeptically. “Yes.”

“Oh,” 

Roman blinks. 

Well. That’s not good. That’s not good, is it? That’s _not_ good. Roman is supposed to be good - why wouldn’t he - he’s a bad friend. He’s a bad friend, just like Virgil said. _Bad, bad, bad…_ he muses sadly. In the back of his mind, he feels the pull of quiet fog to try and soothe himself, but he - he’s here for a reason. He’s here, he can’t leave, he can’t regress. Maybe he should just go, abort the idea… 

“...Actually… I think it’s still Black Cauldron,” Virgil speaks up.

Roman snaps out of his thoughts and whips up a smile. “Perfect!” he exclaims, relieved to have an excuse to move on. “So, I was thinking, we could watch Black Cauldron in my room!”

“Um… alright then?” Virgil tries. “I guess - I mean - I don’t have anything better to do.”

_Success!_

“Great! Let’s go!” Roman beams, bouncing on his heels. He spins around and starts towards the stairs, wiggling his shoulders almost imperceptibly. 

“Wh- oh, we’re walking? We’re walking. Alright then,” Virgil says, and his voice follows Roman so he doesn’t turn to make sure he’s coming along. He just grins.

“Yep! C’mon emo, exercise is healthy!” he encourages.

Virgil huffs. After a moment, he speaks up again, curiously. “I don’t - I don’t think I’ve been in your room before, actually. What is it, a castle? You mentioned having a lot of Disney posters, and you’re so extra I wouldn’t really be surprised.”

Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? Virgil’s never seen his room before. Roman feels a little more nervous now, but he’s determined, and _hopefully_ Virgil’s not going to make fun of him for his childish room? He doesn’t let his hesitance show, or at least he tries not to, but he doesn’t think he fully succeeds. “It’s not a castle, but it certainly does suit my tastes! All I ask is that - um - can you not make fun of it?” his voice gets a little bit smaller at the end, but there’s no helping that.

Virgil seems surprised, and he’s got that smirk on his face that shows that he’s definitely tempted, but to Roman’s relief he answers, “Sure.” Then he asks, “Why? Also, why is your room so freaking far away?”

Roman grins again, a little out of breath from holding it so long. “It’s just that I like to, erm, spend a lot of time in my room, and so it’s very…”

“Messy?” Virgil offers.

“Comfortable,” Roman corrects. “It’s not messy. It’s just very well suited to my comforts and those just so happen to be… a little bit of a sensitive subject for me.”

“Oh. Um, Alright,” he responds. Then he shoots him an amused look. “You didn’t answer my second question, though. Why the frick is your room this far away from the rest of ours?”

Roman shrugs. “I’m just that unique!”

Virgil snickers. “Seems a bit lonely if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t, so there! And speaking of ‘there’, here we are!” he stops, gesturing grandly at his red door. He sees Virgil looking at his other two doors, then at his bedroom one. It makes him a little anxious.

But when he opens the door, all Virgil does is raise an eyebrow and smile, then take a seat in the crimson-colored beanbag in front of the TV.

* * *

Hanging out with Virgil - no insults or “bantering” - turns out to be… interesting. Watching the movie certainly matches that description too, Roman decides. 

Virgil likes to poke plot holes in movies, and so does Roman. Of course, he knew that already, but it’s a little different when Roman is trying to defend the integrity of his favorite franchise (DISNEY!) as opposed to just… vibing. And pointing out even more plot holes or clichés that he knows he could do better than. 

_“Do they not feed these prisoners? We haven’t seen any jailers or guards or anything!”_

_“Yeah, and what about the dog thing? What is it? Where did it come from? Why is it there? They don’t give enough information! Their explanations are so stretched.”_

_“Also, why can’t it be a romance between a Prince Eilon and Taran instead of a Princess Eilonwy? We need a gay Disney prince~”_

_“You might. We already have one.”_

_“Touché, Virgil - touché.”_

Virgil leaves about half an hour after the credits have finished rolling and the title screen is just replaying over and over again, because Thomas is apparently heading out to go shopping and he has to make sure he doesn’t get murdered in a parking lot or something. Roman doesn’t pay much attention to Virgil’s rapid-fire explanation; he’s far too busy basking in the almost-enough warmth of their interaction and the happy afterglow of it all. 

Roman sighs, leaning back, hands sinking into his bed. He’s smiling. If only he and Virgil could be like this more often… maybe he’d be able to add another friend to his list. Just to see how it feels, he says it out loud. “Remus, Deceit, L- no, not him anymore. Remus, Deceit, Virgil…” he kinda likes it. 

Maybe one day. He just - he just has to work on it! 

“Heya bro, how’d it go with Virgil?” Remus asks curiously, popping into his room without warning. _Ha! Joke’s on you, I’m used to you popping in randomly by now!_ Roman thinks jokingly.

Roman beams in response to the question. “It went well I think! We watched Black Cauldron, and nothing much happened, but that’s good, right? That means that it didn’t go terribly and if it didn’t go terribly then that means that it went well!”

“Sure thing!” Remus agrees brightly. “So, whatcha wanna do now?”

Roman laughs. “Right now, I think I’m just gonna tidy up a bit -” he snaps, blankets and stuffies returning to their rightful places and TV turning off. “And maybe go ask Logan why spicy things burn your tongue! But if you wanted to do something…?”

“Mm, nah, didn’t have anything in mind,” Remus shrugs, winking and shooting Roman some finger guns - barrels shining silver - before he declares, “Good luck!” and sinks out. 

Roman gets the impression that Remus only showed up to make sure that Virgil didn’t say anything that hurt his feelings. And that if Virgil _had,_ he’d be on the war path, ready to enact revenge. It _probably_ shouldn’t be a comforting thought, but it is for some reason, so Roman just laughs and starts towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I know you said you didn't want to do it ever again, but I really don't think I can -"


	38. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Flashbacks to Self Harm & Suicide Attempt, Panic Attack, Scar Pain, Biting Stim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops...? 
> 
> I promise I did not mean to do this - what the - I swear it's like whenever you pals predict the Angst it literally just comes out like this - 
> 
> This story basically writes itself at this point!

Worthless.

He’s not sure who said it - maybe it was Logan, maybe it was Virgil, maybe Patton, Thomas, Deceit… Maybe even Remus. It’s true, after all. It could’ve been any one of them. It could’ve been himself. Maybe it was himself… 

But someone said it. He can hear their voice ringing in his mind, whispering - hissing, spitting angrily, a cruel, twisted smirk gracing their lips. _“Worthless,”_

They don’t need him. They don’t _want_ him.

_“You’re just worthless.”_

_“You should go.”_

_“We clearly made a mistake. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong_ **_anywhere._ ** _You’re pathetic. Worthless.”_

Somewhere in his mind, he knows that it’s not real. None of it is real. Patton would never say any of that to him. Logan would never. Virgil… would never _mean_ it. Deceit would mean the opposite, Remus would outright murder anyone who said anything like that. But right now, all he feels is hurt. Depression. _Desolation._

He feels as heavy as storm-filled clouds. The kind that hang low, a few feet above the ground, muffling sound and echoing in the same breath. It makes everything sharp, muted, heavy and blind. 

He feels ruined, abandoned, forgotten, unwanted - he feels like a broken instrument, untouched in the corner of an attic, until one day it all catches fire and he goes up in flames - met without a single mourner standing in the rain during his funeral. 

Worthless.

_“We would be better off without you.”_

_“Why can’t you just - just_ **_die?_ ** _It would make it easier for everyone.”_

He’s already cutting lines into his arm, a firm and steady _one two three four_ and then he doesn’t hesitate before he digs the blade into his skin and slices down the artery. It burns. There’s so much red - he can feel the blood pouring out, draining from his arm and tugging on his heart, and it burns. The blood is hot and wet and the smell of copper is overpowering.

~~_One two three four_ ~~

~~_One two three four_ ~~

~~_One two three four_ ~~

_Cut, cut, cut, cut._ He can feel the razor against his skin. He can see the beads of ruby blood springing up around it as he presses down, presses _into_ himself. He can feel the sharp, burning pain as he rips through the skin, and he feels it all over again because he’s not stopping, he can’t stop because it’s _one two three four_ and then he digs into his skin and slices down the artery - 

He doesn’t stop. He keeps going, keeps cutting, _one two three four_ and his arm is covered in thin, bloody tally marks. He transfers the blade to his other hand, fumbling - it’s slick with blood, hard to hold, but he manages.

~~_One two three four_ ~~

He cuts into his other arm sloppily. A little too deep. He doesn’t care, he keeps going, he can’t stop yet. ~~_One two three four._ ~~

He digs the blade into his skin and slices down the artery.

* * *

Roman wakes up crying. Immediately, his hand goes to his throbbing forearm, pulsing with phantom pain. He can count the scars, thin, nearly invisible lines in a row - _one two three four_ and then there’s a longer, somewhat puckered scar that goes directly down along the vein.

~~_One two three four and without hesitation he digs into his skin and slices down the artery -_ ~~

It’s been months since he’s had a flashback this bad, the kind that shoves him down under the water of the past and makes him forget where he is, so that the only thing he knows is that he’s sitting in his bathtub and he’s pressing a razor blade to his skin and he’s already cutting into his arm, a firm, steady ~~_one two three four -_ ~~

Roman gasps for breath. He’s not in his bathtub - that bathtub is gone, gone forever, he has a new one, he’s in his bed, he’s not dying or bleeding out or killing himself he’s _alive,_ he’s _breathing_ \- 

He’s cutting into his skin. He’s cutting, _one two three four,_ and he can feel the weight of his emotions balled up in his throat, can feel the heavy desolation that comes from the knowledge that he’s alone, that he lost, that he can’t have what he’s worked so hard for. The callback. The wedding. The courtroom. _Deceit._

**Patton.**

He’s lost it all. He can’t pretend to be okay. He can’t - he can’t go out and apologize, he can’t go out and pretend that he thinks he made the right choice. He can’t go out and pretend that he never wanted that callback in the first place. 

~~_One two three four and without hesitation -_ ~~

~~_One two three four, one two three four, one two three four -_ ~~

Roman’s bleeding out. He’s in his bathtub, his boxers are soaked in blood, the smell of copper is overpowering. ~~_One two three four._ ~~

He can’t breathe. _He_ _can’t breathe._ He’s gasping for breath, his chest is expanding and collapsing, but he’s not breathing, he _can’t_ breathe, not when he’s cutting tallies into his arm and asking himself if he really wants to die.

_He can’t breathe._

He’s drowning, drowning in the memories, drowning, drowning, and it burns. 

He can’t breathe.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking much -

Roman is dragged along through it, beginning to end, _~~one two three four~~ _ with an unsteady hand slicing down his artery again and again, until he can barely tell where it ends and where it starts because all there is is cutting, cutting, cutting and bleeding and ~~_one two three four._ ~~

He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

He thinks he’s in the corner of his room, from what his unreliable vision can pinpoint. Rocking back and forth, back and forth, _biting biting biting_ his pendant without mercy, jaw aching from the exertion but body demanding that he keep going. He can breathe again, he thinks. Did he pass out? He… he probably did. _Bite bite bite._

He’s exhausted. His arm hurts. When he looks down, he doesn’t see any blood, doesn’t see fresh cuts, doesn’t see anything but the same scars he’s been looking at since April. But it still hurts. 

Sometimes his scars do that, he remembers. Sometimes they just… flare up again, shooting pain out from the long-healed wound. Roman doesn’t know why, exactly, just that they do, especially when he thinks about how he got them for too long. He usually deals with it by grabbing painkillers and trying to ignore it, and that works pretty well, for the most part.

Roman can’t keep biting the pendant. He wants to, but he can’t. His jaw is sore and aching, and it’s starting to hurt to try and keep going. So he stops biting so hard. He keeps it in his mouth, and when the impulse gets to be too much he chews on it as gently as he can while still satiating himself. 

A quick glance at his alarm clock tells him that it’s almost four. _PM._ On a Wednesday, thankfully. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he missed his and Logan’s meeting because of a flashback to something so _pathetic._ (He’s seen, felt, so much worse - why do those not bother him as much as this does? It doesn’t make any sense!)

Roman painstakingly pulls himself to his feet, gripping onto his rosewood dresser for stability. 

What is today? Clearly it’s Wednesday, but… he gets the feeling that he’s missing something important. It’s September, September 11th - Oh! 9/11! Wait, but they’re not doing anything for that, so why…?

Oh yeah, they’re recording a skit today. Shit, Roman probably missed that, didn’t he? He’s lucky that Thomas can still draw on some of his Creativity and acting skills when Roman’s not in the physical world or he’d have a lot of explaining to do right now. (He probably has some he needs to do anyway, honestly.)

Roman’s still in his pajamas. Still shirtless, with plaid pants and the pendant around his neck and in his mouth. He’s tired. All he wants to do is go back to sleep, even though apparently he’s been unconscious or panicking for most of the day.

So he climbs back into his bed and hugs Sir Willan and Kitty close to his chest. There’s no particular reason for it, but they were closest. And he does like Sir Willan… he’s a gecko. A big orange gecko. He’s from a little after the division of the mindscape.

But just as soon as his eyes close and he floats away, he snaps back, jolting as he feels the tell-tale feeling of summons tugging on his stomach.

He falls out of bed with a _thud_ and scrambles to get up, rubbing his eyes as he looks at the clock. _06:29 PM._ Okay, okay, he needs to get dressed, and take the pendant out of his mouth, and brush his hair, and muster up the energy and willpower to stay in character, and he has to do it in preferably less than thirty seconds -

No no no, he can’t do this, he’s not _ready,_ he’s a _mess,_ he needs - he needs - 

Before he realizes what exactly he’s doing, he shouts, “Remus!”

His brother pops up with a _bang,_ smacking his head on the door. He shakes his head rapidly to shake it off and looks around, eyes narrowed and glinting morningstar gripped menacingly in his hands. He asks rapidly, “What’s going on, Ro? Need me to kill someone finally? PLEASE LET ME KILL SOMEONE-”

“Can you impersonate me?” Roman interrupts hurriedly, panic edging into his voice. “I know you said you didn't want to do it ever again, but I really don't think I can - deal with anyone right now,” he rushes out in one breath.

Remus drops his morningstar and it vanishes upon hitting the floor. He raises his eyebrows and snaps himself into Roman’s clothes, vanishing his mustache and white streak and makeup. “I did say that, didn’t I?” he muses, grinning sharply. “Well, sometimes we all gotta do things we don’t want to do. ‘Sides, you’re a fucking mess right now, I’m not gonna make you face those assholes like this!” As he sinks out, he adds, “You should go to Dee-Dee, he’ll prob’ly be able to help you out a bit!”

And just like that, Roman is alone again, breathing heavily with relief hanging suspended in the air, waiting a few moments before setting in just to make sure that he really is in the clear. Then he lets out a long breath and stumbles back to his bed.

He doesn’t think he’ll go to Deceit, like Remus suggested. He’s just really tired right now. Tired, on edge, with a painful memory burning fresh in his mind. Maybe tomorrow, though… yeah. He’ll figure it out tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan's eyes, however, are fixed on his -


	39. Not Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Unintentionally Toxic Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... um... yep. Yep...
> 
> Rest assured this is Very Important for plot purposes. :(

Ro likes drawing. Especially with crayons! It makes him feel all small and happy. That’s why he’s coloring with Rem and Dess. Well, Rem’s coloring too, but Dess is reading, because he doesn’t like coloring. He doesn’t understand how anyone can not like coloring, but he doesn’t think about it very much.

He’s making a picture of all of them! Rem, Dess, and him! He uses light green for Rem, and it’s really hard to get the body right. He sticks his tongue out as he draws. He uses black for his shirt. He went to Rem and Dess as soon as he woke up today, because he was upset. He feels lots better now, but he wants to make them a gift. So that’s why he’s coloring a picture of them!

He uses yellow for Dess, and the black crayon for his capelet. He makes sure to color over one side of Dess’ face for the scales.

Then he draws himself, with the red crayon. In between Rem and Dess, holding Rem’s hand. He smiles and bounces happily where he’s sitting. He uses the black crayon for his shirt and pants and then picks up the red one again for his sash. 

Then he gives Rem a crown, ‘cause Rem’s a duke! And he gives himself a little crown too. Then he gives Dess one brown eye and one yellow eye.

He looks for a white crayon, for Rem’s hair streak, but he can’t find one. So he squeezes his eyes shut and conjures one, giggling in delight when he finds it in his hand. He puts it to the paper and draws it. 

When he’s finished, he gives the paper to Rem. And he put it up on the fridge! Ro can’t help but beam happily whenever he glances up from the table to the kitchen.  _ They like it! _

_ “It’s hor- it’s really good, Roman. Thank you.” _

_ “I LOVE IT!” _

Next, he wants to draw a dragon-witch!

* * *

Roman knocks on Logan’s navy blue door.

“Hello Logan!” he greets brightly once the door is opened for him. As always, Logan’s wearing his polo shirt and necktie, appearance just as immaculate as ever. Sometimes, admittedly, Roman’s a little jealous of how easily Logan always manages to look put-together and sharp. The only times when it falls apart are when Logan’s mad or frustrated. Or maybe when he makes dad jokes and puns. Personally, Roman prefers the latter. 

His smile is wide, bright, and he knows exactly how to make it look so genuine that not even Remus would be able to spot the lie - but he doesn’t bother, doesn’t make it reach his eyes, doesn’t force it to be anything but obviously fake. Logan probably won’t notice or care, anyways. 

“Salutations, Roman,” the logical side responds, stepping aside and letting Roman come in, laptop under his arm along with his folder of drawings and charts. He adjusts his glasses and closes the door behind them. “You’re early.”

That gives Roman pause. He frowns and slides his sleeve up a little to check his wristwatch, the one he’s decided to wear on Thursdays, just so he’s never unaware. The shortest hand is somewhere in between one and two, and the longer hand is just after four.  _ Huh. I guess I am early. How did that happen?  _

He tries to figure it out for a moment, but his mind is just drawing a blank, so he figures he must’ve misread the clock. It’s not unlikely, since he hasn’t been entirely  _ present  _ today. He shrugs and pulls his smile back up, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “So it seems! You are welcome.”

Logan sits down in his chair as Roman sits down on the bed. He opens his laptop and enters his PIN, opening  _ #226.  _ It’s one of his better documents, with somewhere between twenty and twenty five ideas listed out as well as his visuals. He’s not looking forward to the meeting, though, because… well, even if it should go smoothly, Roman just really isn’t in the mood right now.

“Are you okay?”

Roman looks up. He blinks a couple times, then shifts his gaze to the poster just behind the other. He pretends to read it.  _ Owls can turn their heads 270°. There are 171 known species of chameleon. Grizzly bears have claws that can be up to 10 cm in length.  _ It’s an odd poster, filled with animal facts. 

...He already knows all of them. That poster has been there for years. 

Logan’s eyes, however, are fixed on his - searching for something, calculating, in a way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Roman laughs. He doesn’t know why he does, just that he does. It’s not the fun kind of laugh. It’s actually a little hysterical, desperate. But mostly it’s just… fake.

“Aww, nerd, you  _ do  _ care!” he teases, hand going to his cheek as he finally turns to meet the logical side’s eyes. He laughs again. “But I assure you, I am randy, dandy, and quite grandy, as always!”

“Falsehood,” Logan shoots back firmly, eyes narrowed. “You are  _ not  _ always ‘randy, dandy, and quite grandy.’” He puts it in air quotes and rolls his eyes. It doesn’t hurt,  _ it doesn’t hurt,  _ Roman tells himself. “Moreover, you appear disheveled, your smiles don’t reach your eyes, and you’re reusing your content. I would like to know why, so I can potentially aid you.”

“Why?” Roman snaps. “So you can go right back to brushing me off and accusing me of things that aren’t even my fault as soon as you determine me to be back to ‘optimum functioning capacity’? So you can pretend that you unders-” he cuts off that thought, changing course because he may be mad, he may be fucking  _ livid,  _ but he’s not going to make this an argument, “So you can hold it against me? Laugh at me?” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Forgive me if I don’t want to tell you when I’m dealing with shit.”

“What? Roman- no, why on earth would I hold it against you?” he asks. He seems genuinely perplexed, which makes it even worse. “Everyone has difficult days sometimes. It would be cruel, not to mention illogical, to press otherwise, and I would never laugh at anyone for having a bad day.”

Roman clenches his fists and sets his laptop aside so he can stand up and better glare down at the other. He’s shaking. He’s literally  _ shaking  _ in anger and fear and hurt and he doesn’t know  _ why  _ Logan can preach all of this and not  _ realize  _ \- “You know what, Logan? Okay.  _ Okay,  _ you can say that - you can say whatever the ever-living  _ fuck  _ you want, but I’m not going to believe you until I see it for myself!” He takes a steadying breath and sits back down, forcefully smoothing out his hands against his thighs. He pulls up a fake smile and decides to pretend that none of that happened. “I’m here for our meeting, Logan, so can we do that?”

Roman doesn’t know why it is that Logan thinks he can - can be dismissive and mean, one moment, and then the next pretend that he’s never done anything of the sort. It’s confusing, confusing and it sends Roman reeling. Logan’s not his friend, but he says he is, but then he doesn’t do anything else to support that and so he’s really  _ not,  _ but then he goes back and says he  _ is  _ his friend after all! It’s the same thing with Virgil, who can be pretty cool to hang out with one day and then a total  _ jerk  _ the next. And Patton! Who keeps  _ changing  _ what’s good and what’s bad! How is Roman supposed to  _ keep up  _ with all of this without driving himself  _ insane!?  _

This, he decides,  _ this  _ is why he likes Remus and Deceit and Thomas better. Thomas is almost always understanding. Deceit is predictable - if Roman antagonizes him, he’ll retaliate, but if Roman is polite, then he’s polite, and if Roman is casual then  _ he’s  _ casual, and if Roman is regressed then Deceit is careful. Remus is good. Remus is a constant. Remus is his brother, his twin. He cares.

Roman himself probably isn’t the best example of that, though. He’s… he changes very quickly, depending on who he’s with. Whether they’re his friend or not. When he’s not, he’s the prince, he’s good, he maintains the same image whenever he can. When he is… when he’s with a friend, he’s not the prince. He’s Roman. Just… just Roman. 

It would probably be easier to be friends with the others if he could be Roman with them, but he just… he can’t do that. 

He can’t. (Because what if Roman is bad? What if Patton says Roman isn’t good enough? He can’t  _ not  _ be good enough.)

(Can he?)

The meeting is stiff and uncomfortable, but Logan doesn’t bring it up again. When he stands up to leave, all Roman can feel is relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why didn't he think of this before -


	40. A Different Sort of Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Not Much to Warn About?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow this is- progressing pretty fast, um, you know what that means, right? I'm gonna have to slap some angst down on the table soon 
> 
> Soo... what're you all up to?

_ I may not live to see our glory! _

_ (I may not live to see our glory!) _

_ But I will gladly join the fight! _

_ (But I will gladly join the fight!) _

_ And when our children tell our story - _

_ (And when our children tell our story - ) _

_ They’ll tell the story of tonight. _

Roman thinks there’s just something about listening to the Hamilton soundtrack in the morning while having a debating session with himself that just feels right. That’s probably his thespian mind talking, though, and not actually the song itself.

It’s Friday. Friday means movie night, and movie night means socializing with the others. It means socializing in  _ general,  _ which Roman doesn’t quite feel up to, especially with them, especially after his whole… episode a couple days ago. 

_ (Let’s have another round tonight.) _

_ (Let’s have another round tonight.) _

_ (Let’s have another round tonight.) _

_ They’ll tell the story of tonight! _

It’s only nine in the morning, though, so he has some time before he has to go. Although, he does wonder if he really has to go… after all, it’s only  _ Patton  _ who’s never missed a movie night,  _ he’s  _ missed them plenty of times! Surely he can miss this one? 

_ Raise a glass to freedom~ _

_ Something they can never take away! _

_ No matter what they tell you - _

_ Let’s have another round tonight. _

_ Raise a glass to the four of us- _

Roman examines his eyes in the mirror. Well, not really examine. He just looks into them as he wonders if he has to go. 

_ Tomorrow there’ll be more of us! _

His eyes are red. Not - not in the sense that he’s got pinkeye, or that he’s been crying, but in the sense that his irises are red, like rubies. He loves them. Red is his favorite color, after all, and that’s also why his eyes are red in the first place. It’s… confusing. But he likes them. 

_ Telling the story of tonight. _

_ Let’s have another round tonight. _

Remus’ eyes are green. Like emeralds. 

Deceit’s are… multicolored, one hazel, one gold. Like topaz.

Virgil’s are violet. Amethyst.

Logan’s are deep blue. Lapis lazuli. 

Patton’s are sky blue. Sapphire.

_ In and out, Roman, in and out, c’mon. You’re okay. You’re okay. You can- you can do this.  _

He doesn’t want to.

_ They'll tell the story of tonight. _

_ (Raise a glass to freedom.) _

_ They'll tell the story of tonight. _

_ (Raise a glass to freedom.) _

_ They'll tell the story of tonight. _

_ (They'll tell the story of) _

_ Tonight. _

_ Well…  _

_ What do I do instead then? _

Roman… He doesn’t just want to do anything for a while. He wants a break.

Usually when he needs a break, he heads to the Imagination on a quest! But he doesn’t want to do that this time. He doesn’t feel like fighting or adventuring, he wants to regress and play games and just… have some down-time. 

Roman sighs, and is just about to drop it, but then he realizes something. Why didn’t he think of this before - this is perfect! All he has to do is say he’s going off on a quest, and then he doesn’t have any commitments, no movie night, no meeting, and the only thing he needs to do is show up if Thomas summons him! He’ll be essentially free to do whatever he wants to do, and surely if he’s de-stressing that means that Thomas will also be less stressed? After all, he  _ is  _ an aspect of Thomas’ personality.

Besides, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much at the rate he’s going, stressing left and right and never being able to fully relax because his Thursdays and Fridays and various other interactions with the others always pull him taut again, high-strung. If he takes a break, it’ll be almost like going on a quest anyways - it’ll probably give him more motivation, more ideas, and make him feel better. 

Roman is very aware that at this point, he’s just justifying it to himself. He’s already made up his mind, with the notes in his hand that he’s going to leave in the commons. As always, one’s for the nerd and the other’s for the other two. They’re just variations on his usual notes, nothing much. Nothing  _ suspicious,  _ he might add.

Honestly, he’d be a little more worried about the ethics of what he’s doing, lying to the others and all, but really, he doesn’t think it makes much of a difference whether he’s away on a quest or away with his twin and his twin’s best friend. And it’s not like it’s malicious or anything, he’s got good intentions! Not to mention he  _ already  _ lies a  _ whole  _ lot in every interaction with them.

So without further ado, Roman climbs down the stairs, definitely  _ not  _ taking his time - he’s excited! His heart is racing, his face is somewhat flushed, he’s got the notes in his hand and he can hardly wait to free himself for a couple weeks. He’s grinning, he can’t help it; the anticipation of  _ weeks  _ to himself, no one but him, his brother, and Deceit? Yeah, he can’t blame himself. They’re his  _ friends!  _

Roman still can’t quite get over that part. It’s been, what, a year since Remus found him? And around three months since they made up after the whole… introduction to Thomas disaster. But still, the idea, the  _ concept,  _ of him actually - having  _ friends,  _ real friends, people he can trust and rely on, it’s - it’s astonishing. It’s  _ amazing.  _ Friends.

Roman slides Logan’s note underneath the navy door and skips back out of the hallway, beaming. He’s going to be free! For two weeks! Two whole weeks, and he might not get summoned at all, two weeks he can spend with his friends! 

He reaches the commons, and unsurprisingly he finds Patton tidying up the living room. He feels a little knot of unpleasantness tie up in his chest, but he grins and greets him brightly as soon as he’s set the note on the coffee table. “Hi Padre! I’m heading off on another quest for a while!”

Patton looks over from where he’s dusting off the mantle and smiles. “Oh, hi Roman! Good luck!”

Roman nods - he can’t quite contain his smile, nor does he try to. “Of course! This  _ is  _ me we’re talking about.”

“I know, I was just making sure!” Patton replies. 

Roman sweeps into a bow and takes his leave, nearly bouncing back upstairs. As he goes, his mind fills with a happy buzz of excited thoughts, and when he opens his door to decide on an outfit for today he can’t stop himself from letting out the happy giggles bubbling up inside of him.

Two weeks!

He closes his door behind him, and startles a little when he hears something. He laughs when he realizes that he left the soundtrack going. 

_ -which you hurl in the sea when you see me go by. _

_ Why so sad? _

_ Remember we made an arrangement when you went away, _

_ Now you’re making me mad~ _

_ Remember despite our estrangement, I’m your man…  _

He laughs at himself again and snaps, turning it off, still grinning.

* * *

“Woah, woah, hold up,” Remus says, holding up a hand. He’s grinning, eyes flashing, bouncing a little in excitement. “You’re saying you lied to the others - you!  _ lied!  _ to the others, about going off on a quest, just so that you could spend two weeks with us?”

Roman nods, a little sheepishly. They’re talking in Remus’ room, him by the door, Remus standing only a few steps away - and now that Remus puts it all into perspective it kind of feels a little silly.

He watches as Remus conjures up - a US M67? Roman is very surprised that he knows what that is, it’s an  _ explosive  _ not like a musical or anything - wait, wait, why - what - 

Remus pulls the pin, turns around, and hurls it at the wall, tackling Roman in the deafening explosion of - 

Slime?

And… glitter?

Remus is grinning so widely Roman’s afraid that his face might split in half.

“I LOVE YOU!” he declares as he gets back up, staggering a little. He’s covered in slime now, not to mention the glitter, but he still extends his dripping hand towards Roman, and Roman still takes it, cringing at the slimy texture (it’s  _ slime,  _ what did he expect?).

“I love you too, but uh-” Roman looks around at the mess coating Remus’ room, a disbelieving smile on his face. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Nope, but I really wanted to!” Remus replies, giggling. “Besides, I can just do this!” He snaps, and the ooz drains into the furniture, the floor, the ceiling, the walls, leaving Remus’ room just like it was before. Then he turns back to Roman, grinning pointedly. 

Roman laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“So, what were you thinking? You gonna stay in your room or are you doing the full thing? Like, you can stay in my room!” Remus says. He’s talking so fast it’s hard to tell what he’s saying, but he manages.

He hadn’t thought about that. 

“Well, um, I didn’t think about that,” he laughs. “But I guess it makes sense for me to stay with you.”

Remus’ grin somehow  _ widens.  _ “YES!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wait-"


	41. Toxic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Descriptions of Toxic Behavior, Mental Breakdown, Vomit, Toxic Thinking, I am Very Sorry for this one :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is going to be very difficult to find a way to have Roman convince them not to say anything to the others - (and yes I do need them not to intervene for now, because of Plot) but I shall do my best. I shall also endeavor to find a way that doesn't involve another falling out or something -

“Wait - Roman is staying here, with us, for two weeks? As in, fourteen days.” Deceit asks. He looks like he’s thinking hard, brows furrowed.

Roman didn’t think about this. He… probably should’ve okayed it with Deceit before enacting his plan. He doesn’t know what he can do if Deceit doesn’t want him here. He can… go back to his room? Actually go on a quest? Hide out in Remus’ room the whole time? Honestly, now that he’s here, standing in front of Deceit, he realizes just how much of his plan depends on him. 

Remus snickers. “C’mon, Dee-Dee, he told the lights he was goin’ off on a quest in the Imagination. They’re not gonna come after us for kidnapping him or anything,” he says, amusement very clear in his tone. 

Deceit raises his eyebrows in surprise, looking to Roman as though for affirmation. “Well, that’s entirely expected,” he lies. At least, Roman is  _ seventy-two _ percent sure that it’s a lie. “You lied to them? Good on you.”

He flushes. It’s certainly -  _ weird,  _ being commended for a lie. It feels wrong. Patton’s always said that lying is wrong - and of course Roman… doesn’t fully agree (he lies so much every day - if he were to be honest he’s sure that he’d end up either hurting himself or someone else) but… it still feels weird.  _ It’s not like I could’ve told the truth, though,  _ he tells himself.  _ I can’t just say “hey, I’m going to spend two weeks on the Dark Side with Remus and Deceit, you know, the two sides you hate the most, because I don’t like being around you when I’m stressed because you always make it worse.” I can’t just say “I’m spending two weeks with my only friends” either. That… that would just make them feel bad. Or angry. Probably angry…  _

“W-well, um, I couldn’t exactly tell the truth,” he says, a little bit - just a  _ little  _ bit defensively. The rest of him is just embarrassed. “I don’t think… they’d take it well if I told them I’m fr-” he chokes on the word, suddenly terrified that if he voices it aloud they’ll realize that he thinks of them as  _ friends  _ and then they’ll correct him and laugh and ask how he could  _ possibly  _ believe that they’d be friends with him -  _ “Friendly  _ with you. Patton…” he trails off.  _ Patton always says you’re bad. I don’t think you’re bad, but I’m too scared of him to voice my opinions on the matter. Patton always says you’re bad, and I don’t agree, but I’m afraid that if he knows what I think he’ll say I’m bad too and I -  _

_ I can’t be bad. _

He looks down at his boots. Emotions are swirling inside of his chest, thrumming fear and aching sadness and conflicting feelings that make his hand reach up to his pendant - not hidden under his shirt, because he’s with his friends, he doesn’t need to hide it - and bring it to his mouth. He chews on it, letting out a little bit of the overwhelming feelings with the soothing action. 

“It’s alright, Ro,” Remus breaks the silence, serious and unwavering. “You aren’t in control of who you are or what you say in front of that  _ bitch.  _ I know that pretty well from all your letters, after… our argument.” His tone changes, almost to amusement, but it sounds a little too grim to be. Roman bites down harder on his pendant. 

“You can stay,” Deceit says, and when Roman looks up in hope the human side of his face is tinged pink. He clears his throat and doesn’t make eye contact. “I don’t want you staying in a toxic environment any longer than you have to, and... you are... decent company.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Roman decides not to focus on that right now. He just smiles around the pendant and flaps his free hand to get rid of the extra stress. When he feels good enough to take the pendant out, he lets it fall to his chest as he opens his mouth to say something - but instead of saying “thanks” or “thank you” he finds himself asking, “What makes an environment… toxic?”

Deceit looks at him consideringly. Remus stays quiet, nudging Roman’s shoulder in silent support. 

“If you feel controlled, and don’t receive compassion, love, and  _ respect  _ in a… ‘familial environment’, those are fairly large signs that it’s toxic,” he says. Roman brings the pendant back to his mouth. “Gaslighting, manipulation, unrealistic standards, extreme criticism, name calling, chronic dysfunction, and emotional or physical neglect are all signs of a toxic environment as well.”

_ Oh. _

_ Oh…  _

“But they don’t mean to,” he says quietly around the silicone.  _ They just don’t know that they need to. They think I’m okay, and that’s good, and they can be nice when they think I’m not okay.  _

Deceit’s gaze levels with his. “They don’t have to.”

He shrinks in on himself a little. His voice comes out a little small. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“The main difference between ‘toxic’ and ‘abusive’ is intent, in my opinion,” Deceit answers. His voice is smooth and sweet, like honey, just like it always is. But it’s softer than it usually is. Gentle, cautious. Firm. No sarcasm, no teasing. “A toxic person doesn’t do anything toxic intentionally. When they do, it’s to suit their immediate wants and needs, and stems from a desire for control. An abusive person manipulates people and situations to suit both their current desires as well as their future desires.”

Roman feels Remus’ hand rubbing his back. He doesn’t know how, or why, but he feels like he understands the message his brother is trying to convey. Fierce protectiveness, comfort.  _ “I’m here, don’t worry, it’s all gonna be okay.” _

“It’s pretty clear to me that the light sides aren’t the perfect people they claim to be.”

“But it- it can’t-” Patton is Morality… and Morality is never wrong. Right?  _ Right?  _ Morality - can’t - he can’t be  _ toxic,  _ that’s - that’s everything he’s against! And - and - Roman presses the heels of his hands to his eyes to push the tears back inside.  _ In and out, c’mon.  _ “They’re good!” he says desperately. “They’re  _ good,  _ they’re - they have to be! Patton is Morality and - and - and Morality is never wrong, Patton is Morality and Morality is never wrong, Patton is - Patton - Morality - he can’t -  _ they can’t -  _ it can’t be toxic! I just - it’s my fault,” he pulls away from Remus and backs away, but his back hits the wall and it startles a scared sob from his throat. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s- it’s always my fault, I keep messing up, they’re  _ good  _ but I’m not good enough I’m never good enough -”

“You are good enough!” Remus shouts, eyes flashing. He disregards his splinted leg and storms forward, looking him right in the eyes. “You  _ are  _ and if Patton says you’re not then _ someone is going to DIE TODAY!” _

Roman sucks in a breath. “No, no, no, no- it’s not - don’t - don’t you  _ dare  _ \-  **don’t you dare say that Patton is in the wrong. You’re just a -”** He chokes. His hand slams over his mouth as he feels his stomach lurch. He’s just - he’s just so  _ overwhelmingly  _ disgusted with himself, his insides are turning out and his throat is flooded with bile.

He promised. 

He  _ promised  _ Remus he would  _ never  _ say anything like that again, and he  _ isn’t.  _ Even if that means he can’t  _ breathe  _ with how tightly his hand is clamped around his mouth and how much acid is in his mouth. Even if that means he has to let Morality go undefended,  _ even if that means admitting that Patton isn’t perfect because PATTON HIMSELF SAID HE WASN’T AND IF MORALITY IS NEVER WRONG HE’S NOT WRONG ABOUT THAT EITHER- _

He’s doubled over, heaving, his body trying to get it out, but he refuses to release his hand from over his mouth. He  _ will not,  _ **_he will not._ ** It’s too loud. It’s too loud, there’s shouting, shouting and it’s too hot and too cold and it hurts so much and it  _ burns -  _

His hand is ripped harshly away from his mouth and before he can yank it back his stomach contracts and he  _ vomits.  _ He pants heavily, on his hands and knees, and another wave lurches through him. 

He’s crying. It hurts. It hurts so much, and he hates himself, he hates himself, he hates himself for what he almost said.

But when he finally runs out of things to empty from his stomach, and he’s carefully pulled into someone’s lap - Rem, Rem, it smells like Rem and he can still smell it even though his nose is filled with the smell of acid and bile - and he looks up, neither of them look angry.

Deceit looks scared. Maybe not scared, but worried. Upset. Rem looks protective and upset.

Roman rubs his face clean of tears and vomit.  _ In and out. In and out. It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, you stopped yourself and that’s all that matters. In and out. Just breathe, just breathe Roman it’s fine -  _

“M’ sorry,” he whispers. 

“Forgiven,” they reply at the same time.

“But… but I…”

“Roman, it’s  _ hard,”  _ Deceit interrupts firmly. “You don’t have to accept it yet. You may not accept it ever. You’re here now, so… we might as well do with that what we can.”

Behind him and above him, so close, so warm, Remus whispers, “Can I please - please -  _ please,  _ Deceit,  _ please can’t I hurt them?”  _

Deceit doesn’t answer for a long moment. Then he slowly hangs his head. “We can’t.”

Remus’ hold tightens on Roman.

“But we can talk to them,” Deceit continues, eyes flashing. “Give them a piece of our mind, tell them what they’ve done, make them get their act together.”

Roman taps Remus’ arm, and his brother looks down at him, fury and concern warring in his eyes. 

“Please don’t,” he rasps, tearing up. “Please. It’ll just - it’ll just hurt them, they don’t - they don’t deserve that. They really try their best…”

“...We should… we should talk about this later,” Dess says, disappointed.

“Fine,” Rem sighs.

Ro sighs too. His mouth hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So, because yesterday didn't go well, we're gonna make sure that you have the best day ever today -"


	42. Did it Work?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: ...Not Much Honestly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my Personal Conviction that Janus is an absolute god of gambling, thank you very much~ (Also, in this story, Deceit got rid of the courtroom after the wedding/callback disaster.)
> 
> Don't you like it when you hyperfixate on a song and then all you want to do is listen to it on repeat for a week until you move on to another song you want to listen to on loop? I hope it's not just me that does that -

Roman wakes up slowly in Remus’ bed, half-regressed and feeling… a lot better than he felt yesterday. His stomach doesn’t hurt so much anymore, his sides just ache a little bit, and he can’t taste any acid in his mouth. Of course, the glass of warmed and sweetened milk he had right before bed didn’t hurt. He’s a bit entangled in Remus’ blankets, as he always gets when he sleeps here - and he has to admit, he kind of enjoys the feeling of being all wrapped up, it feels safe and warm and more natural than it feels to sleep with only his one or two blankets rather than Remus’ nine or ten. 

Though, it _is_ a lot harder to muster up the will to get out. They can’t blame _Roman,_ it’s just so warm and comfortable! Besides, with his partly clouded mind and his immense desire to just stay here forever, would it really be so bad if he just… went back to… sleep… 

He blinks himself awake again when he feels Remus poking his cheek. He frowns - it takes a moment to realize what it is - and then his mouth stretches into a grin. He yawns. “Hey Rem.”

“Heya Ro-Bro!” Rem greets back loudly. He practically bounces out of bed, hopping and disentangling himself from the blankets expertly, only tripping a couple of times. Roman props himself up a little more, on his elbows. Remus is wearing a black tee with fishnet sleeves, ripped jeans, his many-buckled-boots, and a silver-studded choker. So, overall - a very punk-like outfit, the kind Remus prefers when he’s extra energetic.

“So, because yesterday didn't go well, we're gonna make sure that you have the best day ever today - and then we can talk about confronting the others and stuff tomorrow!” Remus explains as he grabs Roman’s upper arm and pulls him out of bed. He’s not gentle, but Roman just stumbles over himself and laughs, pushing the blankets off of his legs and taking a moment to free himself. 

“Okay, sounds good,” he replies. “What’re we doing, then?”

Remus lights up and slams his door open, gesturing broadly and dramatically to the hall. He answers, “We’re gonna give you the grand tour of the Dark Side - because I _completely_ forgot to, like, all the other times you’ve been down here! And then we’re gonna play poker and roulette, and after _that_ we’re gonna hang around in the commons playing _very_ fun games until Dee-Dee says it’s lights out!”

 _Wow._ “And how long did it take you to plan all that?” Roman asks. He’s still laughing, somewhat disbelieving, but delighted by the thought. 

“Three minutes!” Remus answers giddily. He pulls Roman through the hall and to the commons, but doesn’t stop there, pulling him to the table and sitting him down eagerly. “But first we gotta have breakfast, Dee’s rules.”

“Alright,” Ro agrees happily.

Deceit smiles a bit at them from his chair, lips twitching up before he pulls them back down. He’s sitting, relaxed, with all six of his arms out and his bowler hat firmly placed on his head. He’s wearing his usual, half-casual outfit - light gray dress shirt with yellow accents, bowtie, yellow cotton gloves, and black slacks with dress shoes. It’s almost like his formal outfit, but without the capelet and with the addition of his bowtie. 

“That’s right,” he says, examining his fingertips. “You both definitely eat as much as you should, so I take it upon myself to make you eat at least once a day.”

Roman hesitates. “Sarcasm?”

Deceit nods and flashes a grin, picking up his fork and starting in on his scrambled eggs. He takes that as his cue to eat as well and picks up his own fork. 

* * *

“Alright, so this is my murder room-” Remus shows him a room behind a blood-stained door. It looks like a cube, a mostly empty cube, with a lot of glass shards and broken furniture on one side and unbroken bottles and vases and tables on the other side. “This is where we go when we wanna just scream bloody murder and smash things until we feel better!” 

He sounds… very proud of that fact, which is unsurprising but still interesting. Roman thinks it’s a really good idea - there _are_ some times when he just feels like screaming and breaking things, so he can see its use. 

“Of course, I _never_ use it too, I am far too collected to resort to such tactics,” Deceit brushes off, and they take him to the next door, the one Deceit came out of the day Ro went to ask him for help regressing. 

When Deceit opens the door, Roman finds that the library is… far bigger than he originally thought. He can’t even see the far wall, it’s just rows upon rows of books, with a few tables and couches and some tasteful décor. It’s dim, like all the rooms in the Dark Side, lit by salt lamps positioned on each shelf next to rows of books or on small stacks of them, almost like paperweights. It’s carpeted, a rich golden yellow, with mahogany wood to offset it. 

“This is, of course, our library -” That’s another thing Roman’s noticed. They don’t seem to use the word “mine” very much, or at least they haven’t thus far. “Where Remus gets his knowledge about obviously not questionable subjects and I get my preferred reading material. As long as you don’t spill anything, destroy anything, speak above eighty-five decibels, or deliberately sabotage the order of the books, you can come here whenever you’d like.”

“Oddly specific, but okay,” Roman comments, following them as they close the door and walk over to the next door over, on the other side of the hallway. 

“Yeah, Double-D made those rules when he realized how bad I am at library etiquette.” Remus explains, not sounding even a little put off. 

Deceit rolls his eyes and grins again, pushing open the door, which Roman’s just noticed has a lot of caution tape criss-crossing over it. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s expecting - but it’s certainly not a _ballroom._

When Roman takes a little more time, he can take in the details. Like how the floor is made of polished poplar, in a herringbone pattern, which works very well with the tall, dark gray stone walls lined with pulsing lanterns. Like how there’s a raised platform in the corner across from the door, and upon it there sits a black, polished grand piano and a bench. 

“This is where Dee and I go when he wants to relax! We can both play the piano, ‘cause he taught me, but he’s still a million times way better than me,” Remus says, and Roman doesn’t miss the way his cheeks tinge red and his fingers start tapping on his leg. He grins knowingly, taking a moment to glance over at Deceit’s reaction to this. 

He’s pleasantly surprised to find that the partial snake is blushing too. Although, he has to admit, he could just be flushed from embarrassment and it might not have anything to do with any sort of reciprocated feelings.

Deceit coughs to catch their attention like he doesn’t already have it, then clears his throat. “Um, yes. If you ever want to join us for a dance feel free. We should move on though, there are still a few more rooms to get to and I’d like to have enough time in the day for everything else our dear duke has planned.”

* * *

“OH COME ON!” Remus shouts, throwing his head back as Deceit spreads out his cards on the table, revealing a three, four, five, and six of diamonds - a straight flush. It’s not as good as Remus’ hand was - _he_ had an eight of hearts and two kings of spades and a queen of clubs. But Deceit, being Deceit, is _really_ good at subtly bluffing and Remus folded.

Roman giggles. _His_ hand is a two of clubs and a seven of hearts. Needless to say, he did not bet more of his circles (he’s pretty sure they have another name, but he doesn’t know what it is - wait, wait, they’re _chips,_ right?) than he had to in order to play.

For calling, apparently Deceit can conjure very intelligent talking snakes, so that’s covered. It’s certainly interesting to say the least. And rather than money, they’re just betting the circles, because there isn’t really a common currency that could work between them, but they all agreed to play like they were betting their favorite snack or something. 

Roman did try his best for the thought of mint chocolate - but really, he’s not very good at poker. Especially considering the fact that he’s just learned how to play just now. It _is_ fun to watch Deceit’s smirk grow into a full, unstoppable, sharp grin more with every victory and Remus’ strategies grow increasingly elaborate to compensate, though, and when they switch to playing roulette Roman’s luck changes for the better. He actually sort of stands a chance!

(Even if Dess’s winning streak goes nearly unbroken with every game they play.)

* * *

“Did it work?”

Ro hums questioningly at his brother’s out-of-the-blue question. 

They’re laying on the floor in the living room, having fallen into a companionable silence after their latest game of Never Have I Ever. It was actually Dess and Rem against him, though, because anything they’ve done they’ve probably both done.

“I said it’d be the best day ever,” Remus explains, a smirk in his voice. “Did it work?”

He smiles back. 

“Mm-hm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman seats himself next to Remus. "So - "


	43. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Descriptions of Toxic Environment, Toxic Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you are! Sorry it's a little rushed, because I completely forgot I have about a hundred assignments to get caught up on before quarter grades are out and I'm screwed-
> 
> Also, spoiler alert! Next chapter features an Adorable Baby-

Breakfast is nice. Deceit seems to be in a pretty good mood today, and conversation with him is a lot less awkward as it usually is and it flows easily. Remus is a little jittery, and he accidentally stabs his plate too hard several times, having to replace it each time because Deceit won’t let him eat off of shattered ceramic. Now he’s using a paper plate instead.

Roman feels…  _ okay,  _ but a little bit nervous, because he knows that right after breakfast they’re going to talk about what they can do about the light sides, and he doesn’t want to accidentally say anything he’ll regret or end up in a situation that leads to him being cast out of the light side and shunned for all of eternity- 

And okay,  _ maybe  _ it won’t end up like that. Probably, in all likelihood, things will just be a little awkward and tense for a while if they  _ do  _ end up bringing  _ it  _ up to the others. But that doesn’t stop Roman from fidgeting quietly in his seat and eating as slowly as he thinks he can get away with.

Still, inevitably, breakfast is over, and Deceit stands up and brings everyone’s dishes to the sink (except for Remus’, that one he just throws away). He walks to the living room and takes his seat in his armchair, crossing his legs and clearly waiting, possibly patiently for Remus and Roman to follow.

Remus follows next, limping to the couch and sitting down by the arm. 

_ Okay, okay, it’s time. We’re doing this.  _ Roman stands up and pushes in his chair. He breathes in, and under his breath he recites, “If starry space no limit knows, And sun succeeds to sun, There is no reason to suppose Our earth the only one. ‘Mid countless constellations cast A million worlds may be, With each a God to bless or blast And steer to destiny.”

He doesn’t have time to recite the other two verses, so he runs through them in his head instead, focusing on the words instead of his racing heart. 

_ Just think! A million gods or so To guide each vital stream, With over all to boss the show A Deity supreme. Such magnitudes oppress my mind; From cosmic space it swings; So ultimately glad to find Relief in little things. For look! Within my hollow hand, While round the earth careens, I hold a single grain of sand And wonder what it means. Ah! If I had the eyes to see, And brain to understand, I think Life’s mystery might be Solved in this grain of sand. Robert Service. _

_ Alright. Breathe. In and out.  _

Roman seats himself next to Remus. “So -” he bites his lip, worrying it as he tries to find something to say. “You… want to talk to the others. For me.”

Deceit nods firmly. “Yes. It’s not okay for them to keep treating you like this, and it’s not okay for them to keep treating  _ each other  _ like this. It’s completely- it’s  _ not  _ healthy. And it would be better to bring it up to them sooner rather than later because the longer this behavior goes unchecked, the harder it will be to stop it.”

“Motherfucking jerks, the lot of them,” Remus mutters under his breath. 

_ I guess that makes sense.  _ And Deceit’s right, it’s not only him who’s being damaged by the light side’s toxicity. Logan doesn’t smile much, because he’s always made fun of when he shows emotion. Virgil doesn’t do anything wholesome because he’s always teased about it for not matching his aesthetic. Patton doesn’t take care of himself or show any negative emotions. True, they’re all working on it; true, he knows for a fact that none of them take it as harshly as he does, because they’re around each other enough to see the good times much more than he is. But it’s still not good.

Roman thinks for another few seconds before formulating a response. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” he says. He knows that. That is something indisputable. “If… if you told them that they’re being… toxic… then either they would get defensive and you’d get hurt, or they’d feel like… like terrible people and they’d close off even more in their efforts to repair it.”

He would know.

It’s… it’s what he used to do, when he realized that he was being a jerk. It feels safer to defend himself or pretend that everything is okay than to admit his faults and be…  _ genuine.  _ (Nowadays he usually just apologizes for everything and stops expecting apologies in return.)

“And it probably won’t help if either of you were to tell them,” he admits, feeling a twist of discomfort in his chest. “They don’t exactly… trust you, like I do. They wouldn’t believe you.”

Deceit huffs and leans back in the armchair, rolling his eyes bitterly. “You’re certainly wr-  _ not  _ wrong there.”

Next to him, Remus pulls his legs up onto the couch and hugs them to his chest. He rocks back and forth. “But if we can’t do it,  _ no one  _ will.”

Roman’s shoulders slump. He feels bad now, knowing how much they care about this, and knowing that he’s the one raining on their parade. And… he has to admit, he really… he really wants the others to be happy. He wants the toxicity to go away. He wants to just be happy, just wants to be friends, just wants - well, he thinks Remus and Deceit will always be his closest friends, but he’d like to be able to be around the others without needing to hide himself. 

“Of course,” Deceit says, and Roman raises his head to meet his calculating gaze. “There is one of us here who they  _ do  _ trust.”

It takes a moment to realize that he’s referring to  _ him,  _ but when he does, he stiffens. He doesn’t know why. No, no, correction, he knows  _ exactly  _ why the thought alarms him so much. There’s no way he’d be able to do it. Not when they scare him so much. Not when he might risk their scorn. They can’t -  _ he can’t let them hate him.  _ His entire  _ goal  _ in life is to be loved by everyone, and he’s worked so  _ hard  _ to keep in Patton’s and Logan’s good graces all these years, and when Virgil joined their ranks he started working doubly to fix everything - there’s nothing that could make him throw all that away.

Well… if Remus was being hurt, or Deceit, he’d shove it all out the window in half of a  _ heartbeat.  _

_ But they’re being hurt by themselves too. Patton is being hurt. Logan is being hurt. Virgil is being hurt. If I could tell them what they’re doing wrong, if I could be the one helping them be better, then they’d love me. But…  _ The thing is, they’d hate him. No matter how much they’d appreciate it later, if he brought it up they would hate him. They would shout and scream and cry and avoid him and say he’s a hypocrite and nothing would get accomplished until he’d have dragged himself through the dirt and scorn for  _ months  _ trying to get them to see what’s wrong with what they’re doing - 

Roman still doesn’t feel like he can handle that. He’s like a tree, roots tangled in the light side, and the rocks that make up the light side are loose and dangerous. If he loses a single root he’ll slip, he’ll fall into the chasm below and never make it to the sunlight again. The dark side is like the firm rocks on the other side of the chasm, and he has a few roots latched onto it, but if he loses the light side he’ll still fall, pulled down by the weight of his own wood. 

He might have the dark sides now, but he’s spent his entire life with the light sides. Their tolerance of him is the only thing that keeps him stable enough to branch out. He wouldn’t be able to handle their scorn.

“I can’t,” he whispers. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He feels awful, feels guilty and wrong and disgusting, but he  _ can’t.  _ His gaze falls and he wrings his hands anxiously.

“Why can’t you?” Deceit asks, and when he looks up in fear all he sees is a desire to understand. It doesn’t sound mean… 

He hesitates. “Maybe… maybe I could. But it’s -” his voice drops to a whisper again. “It’s  _ scary.  _ I don’t want them to hate me…”

Something snaps. He flinches and glances over. His twin is holding two splintered halves of a pencil. Remus summons a second and snaps that one too, with a laser-like focus. 

“Alright.”

He turns back to Deceit. The scaled side looks determined, exhausted, irritated, and comforting all at once. “So we have to keep with the current plan - get them to accept us, and then we can bring it up without them immediately shooting us down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Um. Oopsies? If you could just forget you saw me, that would be great - "


	44. Kidnapped?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY F*CK I AM SO SORRY-  
> Not only is this really rushed, I'm almost a full two hours later than usual! I promise I have an explanation though - I was dragged to church today even though I'm pretty agnostic and the dysphoria there is REALLY effing bad, and I couldn't exactly write this during it with everyone looking over my shoulder. :(

Roman has a hard time fighting off his regression after that. 

They start binging The Office - but more than half of the jokes go over his head and he doesn’t quite miss the curious looks directed at him from his friends. He curls up on the couch, resting his head in Rem’s lap and letting his brother play with his hair, and usually the stress of the conversation combined with being with someone else would keep him firmly outside of regression, but he’s safe here. It’s… it’s even better than being alone.

He’s a bit cold. He climbs up a little more so that he’s sitting in Rem’s lap, chest to chest and head resting on his shoulder. Rem giggles. “Do we finally have a little Ro on our hands?” 

He flushes, but nods, humming his agreement. 

“How old are you feeling?” Dess asks, and he’s smiling, and it makes Ro feel all warm and fuzzy and  _ good  _ inside. He wants to make Dess smile more. He shrugs a little, not knowing how many years it feels like. 

Dess asks again, changing the question, “Do you feel like a kid or a baby?”

Ro’s face burns red and he hides his face in Rem’s shoulder. His face is split into an untamable smile, but he’s too shy to say that he’s really, really little. He knows they won’t be mean, but they might laugh though. 

“It’s alright Ro, you can tell us, we’re never gonna make fun of you,” Rem swears, squeezing him close and sending a rush of warmth through his skin. He burrows closer and thinks for a bit, holding up two fingers for the second option. Dess’s smile grows, and Rem beams in excitement. 

“Baby Ro!” he exclaims happily. Ro bites his lip but a giggle slips past unchecked. The name makes him feel giddy. “Dee! Dee, I have a baby bro today! I just wanna  _ scream-  _ what am I supposed to do with all this happy!?”

Dess laughs. “What you absolutely  _ never  _ do. No one’s stopping you from stimming, my darling duke.”

Rem squeaks, which makes Ro giggle. He looks up to see Rem flapping his hands and wiggling in happy restlessness. It makes him smile giddily and flap his own hands too! And then when he remembers his biting necklace he pulls it up to his mouth and starts chewing, focusing on his teeth and the silly-cone with intense concentration. 

Dess picks up the remote and changes the show, browsing through options before deciding on the yellow star and the gemstones -  _ Steven Universe!  _ he realizes excitedly.

He likes all the colors. He doesn’t understand much of what happens, but he gets sad when all the cookie cats are gone and he giggles when Steven finds more. They watch it for a while, and Ro loves it lots - he especially loves how Rem holds him the whole time and how it’s warm and he just  _ loves  _ it so much! 

Dess likes to talk about what’s happening with Rem, and he doesn’t really know what they’re saying - all the words don’t make much sense to him - but he likes the sound of their voices. It feels good. He likes giggling when they laugh and nodding when they sound serious, because it always gets him hair ruffles from Rem and smiles from Dess.

Now they’re on the one where the breakfast comes to life!

“FUCK!” Dess shouts suddenly, making him jerk in surprise.

Before he can do anything though, Ro feels him and Rem get squeezed and pulled and in half a blink they’re in a different living room. It’s bright, really bright, and a little warmer, and there are other people here. Other people he almost remembers but can’t. 

Cat hoodie, patches, necktie, star shirt. Like Steven! Ro lights up.

“Remus!” Cat Hoodie squeaks.

“Wh- Remus!? What are you doing with Roman!?” Star Shirt yells. Ro buries his face in Rem’s shirt in fear. He doesn’t like him after all.

“I thought he was on a quest.” Patches says.

“Are you seriously  _ kidnapping  _ him?” Necktie squints in confusion. 

“Um. Oopsies? If you could just forget you saw me, that would be great - um, I’m a bit busy right now, so uh, bye!” Rem says loudly, all in one breath. Ro barely has time to register the others’ faces, shock and confusion and something he can’t place, before they’re sinking back out and they’re back in the living room.

He blinks. Then he blinks again. And then he’s curling up defensively in Rem’s hold and biting mercilessly on his pendant. He doesn’t know who the loud people were, he knows he probably should, but he can’t remember and he doesn’t want to. They’re  _ loud  _ and  _ scary  _ and he just wants Rem and Dess.

“What did they say?” Dess asks desperately.

Rem answers quickly, “They thought I was kidnapping him! I think we’re okay for now but we might have to prepare for another summons or a surprise visit!”

Ro’s face scrunches up in confusion as he watches Dess snap his gloved fingers and the TV’s scene changes to show the different living room with the other people in it.

He hears Necktie talking. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“But - but Remus -” Cat Hoodie stammers in concern.

“Yeah, what if Roman needs our help?” Star Shirt asks.

Roman. Roman… that’s him, right? That’s him! Why’re they talking about him? What are they talking about?

“They’re brothers, and we’re metaphysical. Things like this probably happen all the time, and Roman didn’t seem particularly distressed,” Necktie says. Ro feels Rem’s hold on him tighten, but he sees Dess frown in confusion, then smile. 

Dess explains, satisfied, “He’s lying. I think, somehow, he knows that you and Roman are on better terms than you let on.”

Rem’s hold loosens again, and Ro takes the opportunity to hug him tightly and shut his eyes. He doesn’t want to see the others. They’re scary! They’re  _ scary scary  _ and his thoughts keep screaming at him that he needs to run away and hide.

The TV turns off, and he sees Dess holding up two fingers to snap. His shoulders untense.

* * *

Ro’s enveloped in warmth. It’s pitch black, no light, and it’s warm. He’s in a blanket fort next to his older brother and Dess, in his red onesie. His pen-dant is in his mouth and he’s curled up against his friends and it’s  _ warm.  _

Rem suggested the blanket fort after he realized that Ro was scared, and Dess agreed. They built the fort with all of Rem’s blankets and the chairs from the kitchen table, except Ro didn’t do much because he just wanted Rem to carry him and he wanted to hug him until all the scaredness went away. So Rem and Dess built the blanket fort.

Then, it was too bright, so he wriggled out of Rem’s arms and ran to the light switch, pushing it off and then running to the next one, turning off all the lights, and Dess closed the curtains, and then it was dark enough.

Rem snapped Ro into his onesie, Dess got the snacks - they get to have chips and crackers and pretzels! - and now they’re in the blanket fort and it’s perfect and warm and dark and he’s little and he gets to bite and - and - and he’s sleepy. He holds Rem’s hand as his eyes close.

* * *

“You’re up early,” Dess comments. He’s mixing something in a bowl in the kitchen.

Ro nods, shuffling. He’s cold, and Rem’s still sleeping. He wants to be held! So he came out here to go get Dess.

Dess turns around and asks, smiling, “What do you need?” Ro holds up his arms hopefully, and he laughs a little, walking over and picking him up, settling him on his hip and huffing a little. He breathes out a laugh. “Alright, alright. I’m not as strong as Remus but I do have to be able to hold my own against some of his monstrosities, so I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to hold you for hours like he can but I’ll do my best.”

Ro nods, not really understanding but just nodding anyways. He rests his head on Dess’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his chest, and two of Dess’ arms are wrapped around him and holding him up. 

He watches Dess mix things together and measure out ingredients. He doesn’t know what he’s making, but he doesn’t think to ask. He just watches. Dess pours some of the batter in a pan and waits a few minutes, then flips the circle. Oh! It’s pancakes! Ro beams in delight. “Y’ makin’ p’ncates!”

“I am,” Dess agrees with a smile. 

“Boo-berry! Buh-luh-berry p’ncates!” he squeals as Dess sprinkles small round berries into the uncooked side.

“That’s right! Blueberry pancakes!” Dess praises. He turns the pan upside down over a plate, and the pancake falls out, and then he puts it back over the fire and pours out a new circle. Ro pokes his tongue between his teeth and he beams happily.

“Y’ make-ing buh-libety pantakes! Wif or’nge juice! N’ g’lly wums an’ map-el s’lup!” he declares enthusiastically. 

Dess blinks. Then he smiles again and nods firmly. “Uh- yes, absolutely!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rem whines -


	45. Knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some Awkwardness, Anxiety, Not Much Specifically

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm a bit late again. 
> 
> I sincerely hope that I'm not having a harder time writing because I'm having another bad depressive episode- I thought I was already in one! I didn't think it could get worse! I need to go to a psychiatrist, honestly. If only they'd actually listen to me and stop f*cking FORGETTING every time I ask- sorry, sorry, I just needed to get that off my chest. 
> 
> Anyways, here you are! More confusing plot! heh

“Ooh look at this!” Rem greets, yawning and running a hand through his messy hair. “My two besties bonding over breakfast.”

Ro’s sitting next to Dess at the table, holding one of his hands (Dess’ gloves feel int-rest-ing but still warm), and eating pancakes that Dess cut up into small squares for him. He looks up at Rem’s voice though and his face splits into a wide, delighted smile.

He bounces in his seat and waves at him happily. “Rem! Rem! We habin’ buluh-b’ry p’ncates n’ see-rup! Y’ wan’ some? Dess made lots n’ lots n’ dey’re super yummy!”

“Oh yeah, sure!” he agrees, grinning and plopping down in a chair, then reaching forward to grab the pepper in the middle of the table. He shakes it over his stack of pancakes and then reaches into his sleeve, pulling out a knife. Ro watches attentively as he stabs the stack and levers it up, taking a big, dripping bite from it. 

Dess shakes his head and sighs, chuckling. “You’ll never learn actual manners, will you?”

“Oh no, but I thought this was what all the nobles do at fancy dinners,” Rem whines - but he’s smiling, so Ro is a little confused but he thinks it’s okay. 

“Careful, any more sarcasm and you  _ certainly  _ won’t start to sound like me,” Dess replies drily.

“Hiss!” Ro provides helpfully, poking out his tongue and wiggling in his chair. “Hiss-hiss!”

Rem snickers, and Dess rolls his eyes. They’re both smiling, which makes Ro hiss again and giggle happily. Dess agrees, “That’s right, little prince, that’s what snakes sound like. Terrible- I mean, wonderful job!”

“Would sounding like you be such a bad thing?” Rem asks playfully, raising an eyebrow and taking another big bite of his stack of pancakes. He shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, your voice is kinda sexy, not gonna lie, and I wouldn’t mind a little more of that if you know what I mean~”

Dess chokes and coughs, and Ro frowns in concern. He pokes his shoulder, but Dess stops coughing and shakes his head vigorously, so he thinks he’s okay. He settles back contentedly and pokes another square of pancake to put in his mouth. (He likes it lots, it tastes really really good!)

“Jesus, Re!” Dess swears. “In front of the baby, too? You really have no shame.”

“Yep! But I don’t see you complainin’~” Rem answers, leaning forward and gesturing with his falling apart fork of pancakes.

Dess wrinkles his nose, but laughs. “I’ve learned that it’s just a part of your… charm, for lack of a fitting word.”

“Aww, you  _ looove  _ me Dee-Dee, admit it!” he sing-songs back.

“I never said I didn’t,” the other points out, smirking.

Ro tilts his head when Rem’s face turns bright red, giggling a little. “Y’ lub Rem! Lub, lub, lubba  _ lots  _ n’ I lub you too! N’ Dess! Lub, lub lots! K’s?”

Rem laughs, and Ro beams happily. “Yeah, we all love each other, you’re right Roli-Poli! Love all around the breakfast table because the sappy stuff’s not just for the saccharine!” 

“I hate you both,” Dess grumbles. Ro doesn’t know what that means, but it makes Rem laugh, so he giggles too and flaps his free hand while still holding Dess’. 

Then there’s a knocking sound. Both of his friends fall silent, and he frowns worriedly. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. There’s another knock, and he turns to look at where it’s coming from. It sounds like it’s coming from somewhere in the hallway. 

Dess stands up abruptly, letting go of Ro’s hand, and snaps into his fancy outfit with his cap-ule-et. He strides across the room to the hall and Ro can hear his clicking footsteps against the wooden floorboards. He gets up, too, scrambling to the other side of the table and climbing into Rem’s lap so he won’t be so scared. Who’s making the knocking sound? Is it one of - of the scary people from - from before? He has a hard time trying to remember it, but he remembers that it was really scary.

“Logic. How perfectly expected,” Dess says, far away.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” comes an unfamiliar voice that he has to try  _ really, really  _ hard and be  _ very  _ quiet to hear. “But the others insisted I make sure that Roman isn’t in any danger, if he’s even still here.”

“And… you don’t believe he is?” Dess asks curiously.

There’s a pause. Rem rubs Ro’s back soothingly, and he melts into his older brother’s warmth.

“No. No, I don’t believe so,” the other voice answers, as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Would you care to elaborate?” he asks after a moment.

“Roman didn’t look like he was even mildly uncomfortable until he noticed us,” the other explains.

Another silence. Ro looks up at Rem. “Wh’ they t’kin’? Wh’ dey do-nin Rem?”

Rem ruffles his hair and grins. “They’re talking. Dee-Dee and Logan. Don’t you worry, Dee’s gonna take care of it.”

“Roman is fine.” Dess says. “He’s not even here anymore, Remus just likes to randomly pop in on his brother from time to time.”

“Okay. Well, thank you, I’ll leave you be now. Apologies again,” he says.

“Oh, it’s certainly a problem. I would absolutely  _ love  _ having light sides interrupting my day accusing me or my associate of villainy more often,” Dess replies, tone confusing.

“I wasn’t accusing Remus of-”

“I know, Logic. That was a given.”

“...Alright.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Deceit.”

The door closes, and Ro’s face twists up in thought. He doesn’t do very well, though, because all it does is make it harder to think. So he just hums to fill the quiet and reaches across the table to pull his plate over next to Rem’s.

Dess sits down again and flashes a smile. “Alright. Now that  _ that’s  _ taken care of, let’s finish our meal before it gets too soggy.”

* * *

“Roman, do you want to go back?” Deceit asks, once Roman isn’t regressed anymore. He looks up from their game of chess (he’s losing). “Now that they know you’ve interacted with Remus, they’ll definitely have questions. It might be easier to… assuage their doubts before it sets in too deeply.”

Roman thinks for a moment. He looks back down at the chessboard and moves one of his knights to take one of Deceit’s bishops, placing the black piece in the graveyard with the rest of the pieces, which are mostly white if he’s being honest. 

“No,” he decides. “I’m- I don’t  _ want  _ to keep… this, a secret. The only - the only reason I am is- is because I don’t know how - how I - how I could  _ tell  _ them without freezing up and saying something I don’t mean or, or without them getting angry. But - even though I have to, you know, I don’t think I’ll go out of my way to reassure them. That would just - that would make everyone feel bad. Even them! If they found out I was lying.”

“Can you… elaborate, on what that means?” Deceit asks. He’s frowning slightly in concentration, and Roman huffs when he kills his knight with a pawn. Honestly, Roman had forgotten that pawns were a thing until now. (There is no way he’s going to win this, but whatever. He doesn’t really mind.)

“Well… I-I-I’m not really  _ sure  _ what it means, but I don’t - I don’t think I’m going to leave. I don’t  _ want  _ to. But when… when I have to go back, if they ask about it, I’ll just - just make up something then,” he says.

“Lie?” the other asks, eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

He nods. “I know the others keep - keep giving you shit about being Deceit and how lying is wrong, and - and I always agree because it’s  _ easier,  _ but lying is important. I wouldn’t be able to be… who I am right now,  _ where  _ I am right now, if I didn’t lie.”

Deceit nods back, holding back his grin. Roman appreciates it.

“I understand. Sometimes it’s just easier to be quiet and agree, and sometimes it’s the only good option available,” he replies.

“And what is lying more than acting? What is  _ acting,  _ more than  _ lying?”  _ Roman agrees, moving his queen to take Deceit’s rook. He arranges the fallen pieces so that it resembles an assembly of some sort - oh! A wedding! He makes his knight and Deceit’s knight face each other, places a fallen bishop behind them, and arranges the pawns in rows.

“Actually,” Deceit says, watching Roman’s wedding in amusement. “If we’re going further, people don’t often speak their mind. We always filter through our thoughts and say what we think is best to say, whether that accomplishes a goal or whether it’s just the favored option. Even Remus. If lying is wrong, then filters are also wrong, and that is… clearly not a bad thing. I’m sure that even our dear Morality would agree.”

“I… guess, yeah, that makes sense,” Roman says. He’s surprised, though he supposes he really shouldn’t be. Deceit knows a lot of things. 

After Deceit wins, which was honestly inevitable, the deceptive side stands up. “Alright, this has been more than enough social interaction for me. I’m going to the library now, if you need me, but for now I’m sure Remus would be glad to hang out with you.”

Remus looks over at him from the couch, grinning in amusement. “Don’t worry, our dear Double-D is just a little more on the introverted side, it’s nothing to worry about. Wanna try different combinations of popcorn flavoring? I bet it’d be fun!”

Roman smiles back, only a little hesitantly. “Sure.”

“Great! Alright, alright, we’re gonna try hot sauce, cinnamon, jalapeños, and zest!” Remus declares, dragging him up and pulling him to the kitchen (does he just heal faster or is he really doing this on a broken leg?).

“Separately, I hope?” Roman laughs.

“Fine, if that’s your thing,” his twin says, not missing a bit. He shrugs, his grin not faltering for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wow. You really go all out, don't you? Why-"


	46. Blurring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I Can't Think of Anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling better today, still not optimal but I'm not noticeably more anxious than usual. :) Thanks pals, seeing my inbox filled with comments really helps <3 Okay, so, to loosen up my schedule a bit I'm not going to try to make myself update at a specific time every day - so chapters might come a bit later than before, but they'll still be daily. 
> 
> It's almost the end of the break for Roman now :)

Painting is nice. Mixing acrylics, seeing the colors knead together as consistently as you please, lightly brushing over a canvas with a paintbrush and watching the colors spread across the white, broad strokes and little dabs, thin lines and rough sketches, developing a picture you see in your mind’s eye and setting it free so that anyone can see it and see the same thing you see - it’s a little wonder that it’s one of Roman’s favorite things to do when he’s bored.

Painting while wearing comfort clothes and snacking on mint chocolate is better. It gives him something to eat, something sweet to taste, and it makes it so that he doesn’t have to feel the discomfort of his prince costume as he paints. It immerses him in his work, so that he gets lost in the creation, and it makes him feel like he’s come out of a trance when he’s putting on the last details.

But Roman has just decided that painting while wearing comfort clothes and snacking on mint chocolate, in the… oddly inspirational murder room (as Remus called it), after a really good regressed nap is even better. 

The broken things smashed on the floor and the disorganized furniture piled on the other side of the room is a kind of calm chaos that just makes him  _ think.  _ Which is why he’s painting, dabbing leaves on a hickory tree, losing time.

It’s nice. 

* * *

“Wow. You really go all out, don't you? Why -” Remus starts, jokingly, pulling his foot out of the mud with a squelching  _ pop.  _ But Roman interrupts him, grabbing his upper arm and clapping a hand over his mouth, then pointing to the ridge. There, slinking over the darkened rock, is a two-tailed wolf with glinting yellow eyes. It’s a cross between a hydra and a hellhound - except for every severed limb, it just grows back the same, adding another tail. With the addition of a full  _ pack  _ of the creatures.

They’re… not as difficult to fight as a manticore-chimera, as long as you don’t get them hunting you. Surprise is the best tactic. This one’s a scout; the others won’t be far behind, and if the howls haven’t started filling the air yet they still have time to get the jump on it.

Hence, why he silenced Remus.

It’s clear that Remus doesn’t quite understand what they’re doing, but he stays quiet, so Roman knows that he gets it at least a little bit. He beckons his twin to follow his lead, carefully making his way - keeping downwind - to the ridge.

Remus follows, and when they stop, just one boulder between them and the  _ very _ large hell-hydra, he nods, understanding finally flashing in his emerald eyes.

He raises his sword, Remus lifts his morningstar, and they both shift into a tense crouch. In the same moment, they launch themselves at the hell-hydra, Remus screeching loudly and Roman sucking in his breath.

* * *

Roman is splayed out on his back on the carpet in the library. It’s far more comfortable than it has a right to be, really. He’s mostly just staring up at the ceiling - well, the rafters. That’s another thing he’s noticed about the Dark Side; there aren’t any ceilings, just rafters, supports, and the beams holding up the peaked roofs. It’s odd, because it’s taller than the Light Side ceilings, it has roofs, and it’s a flight of stairs  _ down  _ from the other side. 

He supposes the only explanation is that they’re imaginary, and therefore their living quarters don’t need to follow laws of physics or common sense. It’s still fascinating, though. He smiles, thinking about the fit Logan would have if he pointed it out. It’s always fun to see him flailing about looking for any semblance of rationality.

Then his smile falters. That’s not what he meant. That - that’s _ mean.  _ It makes it sound like he enjoys tormenting Logan, enjoys making fun of him and teasing him - and it makes him feel awful but maybe he  _ does.  _

...He’s going to have to work on that. He doesn’t want to be mean to anyone. He doesn’t want to be someone else’s toxic friend - he wants to be  _ good.  _ A good friend. 

Roman’s thoughts drift a little after that. It’s a pleasant sort of silence, a nice kind of boredom, it’s warm and there’s just something about knowing that the only people who could see him right now are his friends. (There’s also just… something, about the Dark Side, that seems so much more welcoming, like a warm, heavy blanket that he never wants to get out of.)

* * *

The days seem to blend together. Not that he’s dissociating, or losing too much time to excessive regression - no, he feels better than ever! He feels present, he feels  _ real,  _ he feels like every breath of air and every little texture is worth remembering, and he’s so relaxed that he almost feels like he’s constantly slipping in and out and in between regression. Except it’s not confusing. It’s not a  _ bad thing,  _ it’s - it’s nice, knowing that he can be whatever he wants to be  _ whenever  _ he wants to be that way, and no one will mind.

So, the days seem to blend together. 

Roman can’t help it! It just feels like he’s been here forever, even though it’s only been - what, eight days? He has to check the wooden calendar on the kitchen counter to make sure that he’s counting right. Nope, it’s been nine days. And apparently it’s a Saturday. (He’s never been more happy about forgetting the day of the week.)

It feels  _ normal.  _ Good. 

After the first few days, things had settled down, so that they weren’t busy filling up their days to make them last. Now, Remus is all over the place, darting about doing various things - Roman thinks they’re either experiments or pranks, or maybe both, but his brother seems really enthusiastic about them - and he still shouts “Heya Ro-Bro!” whenever he enters a room and sees Roman, and “Heya Snake-Boi!” whenever he sees Deceit, but he’s unstoppable. He’s hyperactive, and now that they have a whole two  _ weeks  _ together he spends more of his time doing what he usually does.

Deceit spends more time in his room or the library, though he’s always in the kitchen in the mornings and it’s still normal to find him in the commons reading a book, watching The Good Place, or playing chess with himself. When Roman sees him, he always says something like “Hey, Deceit,” or “Hi Dess!” if he’s feeling smaller. When he doesn’t feel like talking he just waves. And then Deceit will reply with “Hey,” or “Hello,” or a “Bye” if he’s particularly distracted, and if Roman’s regressed he’ll add in a bit of a smile.

Roman himself doesn’t have a routine here, yet, especially since he’s kind of on a break right now, but he also spends more time on his own, happy to just exist in the same place as his friends. (This is how Thomas is with Joan, isn’t it? Roman’s never  _ quite  _ understood that until now.)

He finds some things to do. For a few days, he was too nervous to go into one of the gray doors without being invited, but now he’s better with it. He hasn’t been in the ballroom by himself yet, but that’s mostly because he hasn’t really decided what he would do in there. The murder room is, surprisingly, one he spends quite a bit of time in. It’s actually a nice place to calm down. The library, though, is the one he spends the most time inside. 

He likes reading. 

Deceit’s books - because even though the dark sides seem to share most of everything, Roman’s fairly certain that Deceit is the one who manifested the library - are mostly non-fiction, with historical fiction as the second most common kind. They’re usually something to do with psychology, philosophy, history, or biology, though Roman did find a section of plays by famous playwrights. But he’s already read most of them, having those same books as well as quite a few more in his studio, so Roman reads history books. They’re like novels, but they just give him (mostly) objective facts and his imagination can fill in the rest.

But reading gets boring, so Roman sketches, writes, sings to his heart’s content and bakes desserts. He also has to change outfits pretty regularly, sometimes because of Remus’ more explosive pranks, and other times because he just gets bored of wearing the same thing for too long. He feels energized, ready to take on the world, and he still has five whole days before he has to return to the light side! 

The best part is? When Roman wants attention, all he has to do is be there, and they’ll include him in what they’re doing. Remus will let him help with - whatever chaos he’s up to, and Deceit will let him stay without so much as a questioning eyebrow raise. 

He grins, looking away from the calendar as the oven timer goes off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman giggles -


End file.
